


A Tale of Two Soldiers

by fancyadancebrigadier



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Romance, Serial: s056 The Mind of Evil, Serial: s057 The Claws of Axos, Serial: s064 The Time Monster, army boys are repressed wow who knew, non-con and underage is only implied, nothing's graphic don't fret, the brigadier hates maypoles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:28:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27865377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyadancebrigadier/pseuds/fancyadancebrigadier
Summary: A series of one-shots detailing the relationship between John Benton and Mike Yates.
Relationships: John Benton/Mike Yates
Comments: 33
Kudos: 12





	1. Sixteen

_~1957~_

John Benton was too young to join the army when he did.

His home life was far from stellar – the deaths of his older brother and father during the War had broken the Benton household beyond repair, and his mother had never quite recovered. She was a shell of who she used to be, barely able to look after her little daughter and leaving her in the hands of her only surviving son, who should’ve been spending his childhood grazing his knees and getting into trouble with the other boys in their village. John did his best, of course, helping his mum where he could, walking little Maisie to school when she was old enough to start, helping her with her homework, cooking their meals, keeping the house clean and tidy.

That all changed when his mother remarried. At first, John was glad for it – this new fellow made his mum happier than he’d seen her in years, and it took a load of responsibility off of his shoulders now that there was another man in the house. But the catch soon became apparent when his step-dad started using him as a punching bag, needing to take his anger out on something while keeping his reputation as a good husband squeaky clean. What better target than the awkward step-son? The moment his mum found out, however, she packed John’s bags for him - it was easier to brush the victim under the rug than bring justice to the abuser.

Leaving home when he was just sixteen, the army seemed like the only valid option he had for his life. Not smart enough for an office job, not skilled enough to take on an apprenticeship – what else was he supposed to do? At the very least, army life would give him a sense of regularity, security, normality. It was everything he needed and then some.

He was big and brawny enough to pass for someone older than he was, breezing through the recruitment process without a hitch. In the first days of his military training, he swiftly proved that he was a recruit worth keeping an eye on, passing his physical examinations with flying colours and mastering various fighting techniques faster than the young men who had joined the army when they were supposed to.

As a soldier, he was quiet, capable, obedient, and he worked well under pressure. His commanding officers liked him, his peers were either jealous of or in awe of him, and the few female officers he encountered thought he was sweet. Unfortunately for them, it wasn’t the female officers John was interested in – but he swiftly learned that harbouring an attraction for any of his fellow male soldiers was the greatest crime one could commit. There were two blokes he’d happened to be friends with who got caught together while away on a training mission, and John never heard anything from them again, save for the unsavoury gossiping of the other soldiers. What he had in the army was too good to lose, so he resolved to keep his feelings to himself and simply remain the good, reliable, dependable Private Benton, too dedicated to the job to faff about with any sort of romance.

Deep down he knew that this was no way to live his life, suppressing something that made him who he was, that made him happy. There were a lot of officers and higher-ranking soldiers that John couldn’t look at without his cheeks flushing red and his heart rate picking up. But people just put that down to bashfulness and left it at that. It became John’s chief duty in life to keep that part of who he was under lock and key, sometimes going so far as to try and convince himself that he liked women. 

But that was easier said than done.

***

_~1960~_

At sixteen years old, Mike Yates had already lost control over himself.

As a boy, he’d never been very present in his life, trotting from boarding school to boarding school and obeying his overbearing mother’s every command. The youngest of five, his mother had come to know him as the sensitive one, and so made it her mission to shield her darling boy from the nasty, nasty world that lay beyond the gilded gates of their gentrified paradise. In short, it meant Mike spent very little time taking control over his own life, his young body a mere doll for his doting parents to play with and treat as they liked. He thought boarding school would allow for more freedom, but all it did was push him further away from the autonomy he’d never had the chance to experience.

Eton, however, was different. Or maybe it wasn’t, and Mike had just snapped under the pressure of his mother’s protection and expectations. There were rules to follow, of course, and Mike could’ve just laid back and let them govern his every action as he had at his old boarding schools. But he didn’t – he was sick of it, and for the first time in his short life, he wanted to feel alive.

Despite all the money his parents had spent on his very good, very elite education, he chose to squander it, seduced by the more glamorous aspects of public-school life. He didn’t care for his classes, skipping out on them to spend time with the older boys who seemed to like him so much. They’d hide out in empty classrooms and declare war against their conservative dons, read forbidden books behind the sports sheds, and declare their commitment to socialism under the stars, all while drinking copious amounts of wine and shagging each other.

Mike thought he was old enough to understand what those boys were saying, with their talks of revolution and rebellion against the very system they were benefitting from. He felt good about himself for being so clever, smiling and nodding at anything that sounded important. In reality, all he was doing was getting drunk and pretending to be more of a radical than he was. But the older boys liked him, so with them he stayed. They liked him for his choice to spend time with them, and they thought he was pretty.

At the time, he didn’t realise he could refuse their advances. He liked the compliments they gave him well enough – all fawning over how lithe and beautiful and charming he was. But it was when they started to take it too far, their lips brushing against his, their hands exploring every inch of his slender frame, that he started to feel uncomfortable. In his sheltered way, he’d never quite understood it when the boys behaved like that amongst themselves, but they were happy to teach him. Not that Mike had asked them to. He did try to refuse them once, but that didn’t make them happy, and they threatened to kick him out of the little social group that he treasured so much. He never complained again.

He was too young to understand the nuances of how those boys made him feel. On a basic level, he did like being affectionate with men just as much as he liked being affectionate with women, and in any other situation, he would’ve enjoyed it. But the older boys made it feel strange, callous, unromantic. They didn’t care how Mike felt, or even if he wanted it or not. They’d get what they wanted, and that was that – Mike was just a means to an end. And yes, thinking about it too hard made him want to cry, but that was a problem with him. He managed to convince himself that this was the way relationships worked, that this was what romance was. He knew so little about it himself, no thanks to darling mummy, that he never understood that such acts were supposed to be born from love, affection, passion. But the violation of his own body was so caught up in the beauty and romanticism of the boys’ ideals that Mike mistook lust for love, and equated the two without question. It was all about giving and taking, but it was never reciprocal. He’d get used to it one day, stop crying one day. It was just a matter of getting accustomed to it, that was all.

And it never changed, even as Mike grew up and those older boys left, he still let his peers take advantage of him in that very same way because lust was love, and love was lust. He’d gained a quiet reputation for being the boy who was easy, always down for a quick shag, and nobody bothered to question how he felt about it. His body belonged to everyone but himself, and that was the way it was supposed to be. Even Mike himself didn’t question it – this was his role in life now, and had no choice but to embrace it.

Nevertheless, when he was offered the opportunity to leave those boys behind and join the RAF shortly after he graduated, he jumped at the chance. 


	2. Recruitment

_~1968~_

As time went on, Benton’s status as a prodigy waned, and soon he was just another brawny bloke in combat gear like all the rest. There were new, exceptional young privates joining the army every day – it was only natural that Benton’s light would fade, especially when it became abundantly apparent that his talents didn’t warrant being promoted past corporal.

Still, Corporal Benton had a nice ring to it. He was happy where he was in his soldiering life, content to mill about on his reasonably low rung of the military ladder. The army gave him a roof over his head, three square meals a day, and plenty of excitement to keep himself occupied. And even when that excitement had slowed to a halt, his efforts to conceal his homosexuality kept him on his toes quite nicely.

In his contented state, the last thing Benton expected was for his life to be shaken up completely. One morning, before he’d even had a chance to get stuck into his duties for the day, he was called into his CO’s office without so much as a clue as to why. It all seemed very hush-hush, an unfamiliar woman in standard military dress approaching him and quickly ushering him away from his desk.

“Corporal Benton?”

“Hm?”

“My name is Corporal Bell. I’ve been ordered to collect you.”

Benton frowned. “Collect me? What’s all this about?”

Bell didn’t respond, simply turning on her heel and striding off in the direction of the offices, clearly expecting Benton to follow her. Not used to disobeying orders, Benton did as he was expected.

When they arrived in the office, Benton was rather surprised to not see his CO like he was expecting, but a stranger. Tall, handsome, with a finely trimmed moustache perfectly placed on his top lip, he looked like the kind of soldier you’d only see on television. He was standing behind the heavy wooden desk, and he gave a curt, professional nod as Benton entered the room. Benton gave the customary salute then sat down once the man gestured to the nearby seat.

“At ease, Corporal Benton.” The man’s voice was deep, refined, exactly what you’d expect from a high-ranking military officer. But there was a warmth to it, too, something Benton wasn’t used to hearing from such a man. “My name is Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart – I suspect you’re wondering why you’ve been brought to see me?”

Benton nodded, and Lethbridge-Stewart gestured for Bell to leave the room. She did, leaving the two men alone together. Benton looked up to Lethbridge-Stewart with a furrowed brow. “I hope I’m not in any trouble, sir.”

“Certainly not. Quite the opposite.” Lethbridge-Stewart took a seat behind the desk, sliding the papers in front of him over to Benton’s side of the desk. They were marked with a logo Benton wasn’t familiar with – UNIT: United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. If Benton wasn’t mistaken, Lethbridge-Stewart was smiling at his confusion. “You’ve been noticed, Corporal Benton.”

Benton blinked. “Have I, sir?”

“You have, although perhaps I’d better explain myself before I start roping you into this.” He settled back in his chair, cluing Benton into the fact that they’d be there for a while. “I head an organisation known as UNIT; a special operations task force supported by the UN. As it’s still early days, I’m liaising with the British army to recruit soldiers to serve under my branch – the British branch, that is. You, Corporal Benton, have come highly recommended by your Commanding Officers, and so I’m here to offer you a position in my branch.”

It was almost too much for Benton to take in – he hadn’t realised he’d been doing anything worth recommending to anyone, let alone to something as prestigious-sounding as UNIT. “You- you want me, sir?”

“I do. According to your commanding officers, you’re reliable, good under pressure, and a damn good soldier when it comes right down to it. They seemed rather reluctant to tell me about you.” He added with a smile: “I suppose they didn’t want to lose you.”

“I suppose so, sir,” Benton said, then cleared his throat. “Sir, it’s an honour, really, but, um… This UNIT group. What does it do, exactly?”

Lethbridge-Stewart tapped the small stack of papers he’d pushed over to Benton moments ago. “It’s all there in that brief – which is for your eyes only, I hope you’ll remember – but in short, UNIT’s mandate is to investigate, monitor, and protect the world from extra-terrestrial threats.”

If Benton had been drinking anything, he would’ve spat it out all over the desk. “Extra-terrestrial? You mean aliens?”

“I do. Do you remember when London was evacuated earlier this year, Corporal?” When Benton nodded, Lethbridge-Stewart continued. “It was kept fairly hush-hush by those in the know, but that evacuation was the result of extra-terrestrials invading the London Underground. Since then there have been efforts to set up a specialised force to deal with those sorts of events, but this is the first one to get off the ground.”

“I see.” Benton trailed off, thinking for a moment. It all seemed a little absurd to him, but if it was all there in the paperwork… It was all a little too professional to be a con, and surely the UN wouldn’t want to waste their resources on a bunch of crackpots? In any other context, he would’ve dismissed Lethbridge-Stewart as off his rocker, but Benton had a gut feeling that this was the real deal. “And- and you want me for this, sir?”

“I wouldn’t have sent Bell to fetch you if I didn’t. You’re more than welcome to decline, of course, but if you do, this conversation never happened. Is that clear?”

Nodding, Benton bit his lip. He had a feeling that this was going to be big, bigger than anything he could imagine. Of course, he’d heard rumours about the evacuation last February, that it was something strange or inhuman, but he’d always brushed them off as conjecture and gossip. But to know that it had been something extra-terrestrial and that the threat of alien invasion was pervasive enough to warrant a special taskforce… If he had to be honest with himself, the thought scared him.

But then again, how many times would an opportunity like this come along? Especially for someone as average as Benton – although if Lethbridge-Stewart’s glowing impression of him was anything to go by, maybe he wasn’t so average after all. Yes, he’d been content with his position in life, cruising through the world as a lowly corporal for the regular army, but with this new opportunity placed right in his lap, with a distinguished Brigadier to back it up…

Of course, accepting Lethbridge-Stewart’s offer was the best thing he could do. If the thought of fighting against aliens from outer space frightened him, the idea that he’d be helping save the planet quickly chased those fears away. Joining up with this UNIT lot was probably the most selfless thing Benton would ever do, giving up his own next to non-existent hopes and ambitions for the sake of a greater cause, a more important cause. Something Benton could be proud of. Joining UNIT would more than likely lead him into danger, but he’d be a coward if he didn’t.

“So, Corporal, what do you say?”

Glancing at his lap before setting his gaze firm on Lethbridge-Stewart, Benton set his lips in a small smirk. “Well, you know what they say, sir – nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

Lethbridge-Stewart simply smiled.

“I’m glad to hear it. Welcome to UNIT, Corporal Benton.”

***

_~1970~_

When Mike was seconded to UNIT to assist with locating a missing fighter jet, he wasn’t sure what to expect. Officially, all the young RAF lieutenant had been told was that UNIT investigated unusual incidences that, for whatever reason, the regular army wasn’t permitted to get involved with. Mike accepted that, deciding for himself that UNIT simply dealt with delicate matters of a secretive nature and, in all honesty, he felt rather privileged to be involved with such an impressive group of people. Gossip among the other soldiers, however, quickly changed his mind – according to them, UNIT was some crackpot splinter of the UN that hunted little green men in their spare time, wasting army resources and money. After that, his confidence in the organisation – and in himself for now being associated with them – quickly waned.

However, any dodgy first impressions he had about the organisation were soon stamped out when he came face to face with three of its members. Although the sight of the little yellow roadster descending from an impressive cargo transporter made any thoughts of this being a serious mission fly out the window, he soon found himself rather charmed by its occupants. Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, the passenger in the roadster and the man in charge of UNIT, had a certain likeability undercutting his strict professionalism, and he was the sort of high-ranking officer Mike felt he could trust. The driver, soon introduced to him as simply the Doctor, looked about as absurd as his vehicle, and yet his charm and good humour won Mike over immediately.

The reliable Sergeant Benton, who he was only introduced to from afar, didn’t make much of an impression.

The following events were somewhat of a trial by fire. Mike was kidnapped, tortured by, and rescued from aliens in a very short space of time, then proceeded to work with the Doctor and Lethbridge-Stewart to blow up said aliens. Well, he wasn’t technically blowing them up, but it was close enough. Regardless of how, the armidians weren’t around anymore and that was how they were going to stay.

And really, he’d all found it quite exciting. He hadn’t enjoyed the kidnap and torture bit – no one would. But the rest of it was some of the most exhilarating stuff Mike had ever been ordered to do, and a strange part of himself loved it. Working with UNIT, fighting against extra-terrestrials – it felt like this was what he was supposed to be doing with his life, like this was what he’d been put on the Earth to do. It all came so naturally to him, and it just felt right. He was almost disappointed when the Doctor emerged from the final battle victorious because it meant all of this would be over. He and Lethbridge-Stewart would leave in the morning, thanking Mike for his service before proceeding to never think about him again. It was a shame – he’d enjoyed himself so much.

Standing on the landing strip where he’d first met the Doctor and Lethbridge-Stewart, Mike watched as the various UNIT personnel prepared to leave, his gaze lingering on Sergeant Benton ordering around his troops. He hadn’t had much to do with Benton on this occasion, but he’d helped save him from the armidians, so that must count for something. He really ought to thank him, if he ever got the chance.

His gaze, however, was soon wrenched from Sergeant Benton as he noticed the Brigadier and his scientific adviser strolling towards him, presumably to say their goodbyes. Mike decided to simply grin and bear it, saluting Lethbridge-Stewart as he came to a stop in front of him.

“Just wanted to say what an impressive job you’ve performed, Lieutenant Yates,” said Lethbridge-Stewart, the breeze whipping through his short, smartly cut hair. “Splendid. Quite splendid.”

“I was just doing my duty, sir,” Mike replied, looking at both men with a small smile.

The Doctor responded with his own. “Few could’ve performed it so bravely, Mike, nor with such an open mind.”

“Well, it’s been an experience.” His last of that kind, no doubt.

Before he spoke, Lethbridge-Stewart exchanged a glance with the Doctor, brief but hard to miss. “The Doctor and I were wondering – how would you feel about coming to UNIT on a full-time basis?”

For a moment, Mike thought he hadn’t heard the Brigadier correctly – he’d so convinced himself that this would be the last he’d see of UNIT that the thought of working for them full time seemed more absurd than the existence of the armidians. “Join UNIT? Full time?” He couldn’t quite suppress the laugh in his voice – disbelief rearing its head.

“Your superiors are reluctant to lose you,” the Doctor said, apparently unphased by Mike’s wide eyes and hanging jaw. “But we explained you could hardly turn it down, as the post comes with a promotion.”

Mike swallowed – this was entirely beyond his expectations for that morning, like all his short-term dreams were coming true. The Brigadier spoke next. “Yes. How would you like the sound of that, Captain Mike Yates?”

“Oh, I like it, sir,” Mike said, grinning from ear to ear. “I like it a lot.”

“Excellent – we’re glad to have you onboard, Captain,” said the Brigadier with a small smile and even smaller nod. “We’re set to leave in two hours – will that be enough time to collect your things?”

Mike nodded, the prospect of shifting out of the Fort George barracks pleasing him greatly. After briefing him on the finer details of his transfer and promotion, Lethbridge-Stewart departed to oversee his troops. The Doctor followed him shortly after, but not before letting Mike know how glad he was that he’d be sticking around. Mike mirrored the sentiment.

Left on his own, Mike bit his bottom lip to hide his smile before turning and walking off in the direction of the Fort George barracks, his mind running wild with all the exciting possibilities his new job held for him. A captain working for UNIT, fighting aliens with the Doctor and Lethbridge-Stewart… It certainly put a spring in his step.

Those steps, however, were soon interrupted by a meek, low sounding voice. “Er, Lieu- Captain Yates, sir?”

Trying not to get too excited about being referred to as ‘Captain’, Mike turned around to address whoever was speaking to him. To his surprise, he was greeted by the burly form of Sergeant Benton. “Ah, Sergeant. What can I do for you?”

“The Brig told me about your promotion. Thought I’d come to congratulate you myself.” Benton rubbed the back of his neck. “Welcome you to the team, and all that.”

Mike couldn’t help but smile – he hadn’t expected Benton to be so timid, having only seen him ordering around his men with authority and shooting down the aliens who were holding him hostage. It was rather endearing when he thought about it. “Thank you, I appreciate it. You know, I was thinking earlier that I ought to thank you for rescuing me from those armidians. You got me out of quite the sticky situation, and I’m grateful.”

“No need to thank me, sir,” Benton said with a shrug, although the slight flush of red in his cheeks betrayed how affected he was by the compliment. “It just seemed like the right thing to do, that’s all.”

“That doesn’t make it any less important. Next time you’re in trouble, give me a call? I think I owe you one.”

“Uh, yes sir. I, um, I will,” Benton stammered, and Mike laughed. He was awfully sweet, this Sergeant Benton chap.

“Listen, I’d better go pack my things, but it was good to talk to you, Sergeant,” Mike said, really meaning it. “I hope we’ll get to work together again soon.”

Benton smiled, shy but full of warmth and charm, melting the cold front of his timidity.

“I hope so too, sir.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue for Mike's conversation with the Doctor and the Brigadier is taken from Vengenace of the Stones, an audio story recorded for Doctor Who's 50th anniversary. 
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr @fancyadancebrigadier


	3. Attraction

_~1970~_

The clouds above Wenley Moor were grey and heavy, weighed down by gallons of dormant rain. It cast the area in bleak darkness despite the still early hour, penetrating the air with gloom. Benton was certain it would start raining any second now, and he knew he wasn’t the only one who thought so – he’d overheard the other men whinging about how they’d all catch their deaths if they stayed out there much longer. If Benton was prone to complaining, he would’ve agreed with them, but he wasn’t, so he didn’t. Besides, he didn’t want to bring down morale even further when the weather was doing such a bang-up job of it.

But he also didn’t want to ruin this for Captain Yates, the officer in charge of this little cleanup operation. Their mission was to clear up all the debris from the blown-up silurian base before any of the locals could stumble upon it, as well as hunt down and gas out any remaining nests. It was Captain Yates’ first proper leadership assignment since being recruited to UNIT, despite having been working with the organisation for months now, and Benton could tell how anxious he was to do a good job. He liked Captain Yates – liked him a lot – and he wasn’t about to let him fail at something that meant so much to him.

Benton, Yates, and a few other men had taken to searching the moor for the remaining nests, while the other lot stayed behind at the original base. He watched as Yates surveyed the area from atop a small outcropping of rocks, the wind ruffling his hair and uniform, his face slightly scrunched in concentration behind his UNIT standard binoculars. He cut quite a trim figure, and his every move had a graceful deliberation about it – not like Benton, who was rough and awkward and clumsy. From body language alone, Benton could tell that joining the army was not Yates’ genetic destiny, and yet there he was.

“See any nests, sir?” Benton called, raising his voice a little over the wind.

Yates lowered his binoculars. “Not yet, but I suspect we’ll be able to see them better up close.”

“Mm.” Benton nodded. “The lads are all keeping an eye out. If there are any, I’m sure we’ll find them.”

“Thank you, Benton,” Yates said with a nervous smile. “Come on.”

The pair of them made their way across the moors, scanning every nook and cranny for a possible nest. Benton had been working for UNIT long enough to be used to this sort of thing, so he found the stroll through the countryside rather relaxing. He could only hope that his sense of calm would soon rub off on the Captain, who seemed to be taking this whole thing very seriously. As he should be.

With the soldiers spread out far and wide across the moor, there was ample opportunity to strike up a conversation. And, in an attempt to lessen the Captain’s nerves, Benton did just that.

“Do you know what went on here, sir?” Benton asked, looking up at Yates for an answer.

Yates nodded. “Of course, I do. The Brig briefed me on it when we arrived.”

“Right…” Benton cringed at the blush stealing across his cheeks, and he could only pray that Yates wouldn’t turn around and see it.

“But it sounds like a nasty bit of business,” Yates continued. “To think we could’ve all been wiped out by some plague… Makes you grateful for what you’ve got, doesn’t it? To know you could’ve lost it all.”

The tension of embarrassment started to dissipate – getting a sensible answer lessened the impression that the question had been a foolish one. “I guess it does. But once you’ve been working here long enough, you get a bit desensitised to that sort of thing.”

“I suppose so, but still.” Yates turned to Benton with a small smile. “I’m certainly grateful for what I have. Whether it desensitises you or not, I wouldn’t give any of this up for the world.”

Benton smiled in return, although the Captain’s own had disarmed him somewhat. Ever since he first saw him in Scotland, Benton had always known he’d harboured an attraction for the Captain. Physically, at least, he had all the traits that Benton liked in a man – lean physique, fine features, tall but not too tall. And as they’d got to know each other, Benton had started to fall for his personality too. He was witty, charming, took the job seriously when he needed to, and was prone to falling into lapses of deep thought that conjured up a misty, far away look in his eyes. He seemed like a man with more to him than met the eye, and that mystery was perhaps what made Benton’s attraction to him linger.

He’d fallen for officers before, plenty of times – even the Brig, who he’d sustained a small crush on during his early days at UNIT. But all those attractions faded over time when getting used to that person’s company dulled the novelty of the first impression. But Yates was different. The feelings he had for him, which should’ve faded months ago, were still going strong. It distressed him to no end – no matter how hard he tried, his feelings for Yates wouldn’t go away, forcing him to constantly acknowledge the painful fact that he could never act on them. The longer he loved Yates, the more he wanted to be with him, but that just wasn’t possible. Even if it was allowed, and even if Yates was attracted to men, he’d never go for a man like Benton. Not in a million years.

“Everything alright?” Snapped from his reverie, Benton looked over at Yates with a look of dull confusion in his eyes. “You just went quiet all of a sudden.”

“Oh, uh, yes sir, I’m fine,” Benton replied, rubbing the back of his neck. Yates opened his mouth to respond, but he was cut off by the call of a young corporal yelling out that they’d found a nest.

Yates glanced at Benton. “Sorry, Benton. Best get on with this then, shall we?”

Benton nodded, hiding his disappointment under an expression of determination.

***

“Still here, sir?”

Mike looked up from his immense stack of paperwork to see Sergeant Benton standing in the doorway, a tray of mugs and biscuits in his hands. He’d been at it all day, writing up reports about the silurian clean-up and signing off the various equipment they’d used on the operation. The Brigadier liked UNIT paperwork to be as thoroughly done as possible and Mike, wanting to make a good impression, always did his best to meet those expectations – even if it did mean staying up at the office into the wee hours. So, seeing Benton standing there with much-needed victuals brought him relief, but also reminded him how long ago it had been since he last ate anything.

He sighed, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Yes, unfortunately. Who knew a small clean-up operation would warrant so much paperwork?”

Benton chuckled. “It’s the side of UNIT life the Brig doesn’t like to advertise.”

“I’ll bet.”

Mike picked up his pen to resume signing off on the equipment, but he lost interest completely when Benton placed his tray on the edge of his desk, revealing the quantity and variety of the biscuits he’d brought with him. He looked up as Benton handed him a mug.

“It’s just tea, sir, nothing too fancy. I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I figured tea would be the safest.” He added with a smile: “I’ve never met a soldier who didn’t like tea.”

“Well, you’re not about to meet one now.” Mike took a grateful sip, then swallowed. “But between you and me, I’m more of a cocoa man myself.”

“Really?” Benton’s eyes widened a little. “I’ll keep that in mind, sir.”

Mike smiled and took another sip of his tea, shutting his eyes in satisfaction at the warmth. It was exactly what he needed after a long day, and he couldn’t say he was surprised that Benton was the one to have brought it to him. From early on in their acquaintance, Benton had charmed Mike with his genuinely sweet nature, always there to lend a helping hand or offer moral support. And he never did it because he was asked – it all just came from him, from his good nature. There were very few men like that in Mike’s life, the kind of men with good hearts and no strings attached. He appreciated it more than words could say, and it certainly helped that Benton was quite the handsome young man.

Very handsome. Like prince charming out of a fairy tale.

“You know, Benton,” Mike said once his mug was half drained. “Now I owe you two favours – this is the second time you’ve saved my life.”

“All due respect, sir, bringing you tea and biscuits isn’t the same as rescuing you from aliens.”

“No, no, I think it is,” Mike said, and Benton cocked his head. “I think I’d have died of boredom if it weren’t for you.”

Benton laughed at that, warm and hearty, the scent of chocolate biscuits on his breath. “Alright then, sir. I’ll take the favours where I can get them.”

They carried on in companionable chatter, and Mike soon realised just how much he enjoyed being in Benton’s company. He’d always liked him, of course, and physical attraction had definitely always been there, but only now was Mike realising just how easy Benton was to get on with. He felt like he could talk to him for hours and hours, just basking in the warmth and simplicity of his company. It was a rare and special thing, to know someone like Benton, and Mike made a promise to himself that he’d never squander their friendship.

Maybe if he’d known more people like Benton in his youth, he’d be able to sleep at night.

By the time the clock struck 10 PM, the biscuits had vanished and the mugs of tea were long empty. Mike leaned back in his chair with a sigh, then glanced down at his paperwork. “I suppose I’d better get back to this, hadn’t I?”

“At this hour? Isn’t it a bit late, sir?”

“I need to get it done. I’ll be up all night worrying about it if I don’t,” Mike explained, as if the paperwork was the worst of his worries when it came to his insomnia.

Benton frowned. “If you’re sure, sir. Although, if you don’t mind me saying so, I think you’d better off getting some rest.”

“I’ll be fine, Benton, but thank you.” Mike watched as Benton cleared up the tea things, only stopping him when he was halfway out the door. “Oh, uh, Benton?”

“Yes sir?” Benton blinked, his eyebrows slightly lifted in an expression of expectation.

Mike swallowed, not sure whether his next statement would be one he’d regret. “You don’t need to call me ‘sir’, you know. When we’re alone like this, I mean. Yates will do just fine.”

He waited for Benton’s response with bated breath, already beating himself up for being too forward. They were just colleagues for pity’s sake, and not only that, but Mike was Benton’s superior officer – what the hell was he thinking, saying something like that…

But Benton simply smiled, and he gave a small nod. “Alright, Yates.”

The pair exchanged a smile, Benton’s warm and easy, Mike’s uneasy with relief. Benton shut the door behind him when he left, giving Mike the privacy he needed to rest his forehead on the table and breathe out a heavy sigh. If Benton hadn’t taken that request well, the whole thing would’ve been ruined right then and there. No more nice evenings in, no more tea and biscuits over boring paperwork. But then again, Benton was always so polite – what if he’d just agreed to save face?

It was a thought that plagued him for the rest of the week, with every glimpse of Benton in the hallways of HQ reminding Mike of his mistake, of the uncertainty surrounding their friendship. He didn’t get much of a chance to speak to Benton that week, and he managed to convince himself that it was because of his request, that Benton was too uncomfortable with his advances to want to be associated with him. Mike should’ve known that would end in disaster, that he’d ruin it by making the first move. That wasn’t how these things worked – if Benton wanted to be with him, he would’ve done something about it by now.

But when Benton arrived in his office a week later, with a tray of biscuits and cocoa in his hands, all of Mike’s fears vanished into thin air.


	4. Miscommunication

_~1971~_

Benton wasn’t the type to get jealous. He’d always considered himself too sensible for it, his happiness for others always overshadowing his misgivings and desires. But Jo Grant was testing that restraint, because the moment she arrived, she cut the time he got to spend with Captain Yates clean in half.

It all began after the auton invasion with the plastic daffodils. Jo and Yates had worked well together, getting on like a house on fire, and – as much as Benton hated to admit it – flirting with each other all the while. He supposed he couldn’t blame them. Jo was a good-looking girl, fun and charming and sweet, and Yates was just the same. It made sense for them to like each other like that, and Benton hated that he cared so much.

He'd see them in the mess hall eating lunch together, Jo laughing at something Yates had said or Yates grinning as Jo told him some ridiculous story about what the Doctor had been up to that day. They’d always invite Benton to join them, of course, but he suspected that was just to make him feel included. But then he felt awkward because, no matter how much they talked to him, he could tell they just wanted to be left on their own. And Benton, who’d built a life off of doing what other people wanted him to do, began to oblige.

In some ways, this whole thing with Jo had brought him back down to Earth. His feelings for Yates, which were still going strong, were starting to get a little delusional. Ever since the Captain had asked him to call him by his surname in private, Benton had started to believe that there might be something more than professional friendship between them. He’d grown extraordinarily fond of their evenings together, drinking cocoa and coffee in the privacy of Yates’ office. No officer had ever treated him like that before, thinking of him as a friend before anything else. And Benton had enjoyed kidding himself that Yates might feel the same way as Benton did towards him – that he loved him. He’d never accuse the Captain of leading him on or teasing him because he hadn’t been, but Benton couldn’t deny that his hopes of a stronger relationship had been raised.

He wasn’t angry that Jo had come along and stolen Yates’ attention, just disappointed. Yates’ apparent fondness for Jo was the final nail in the coffin of Benton and Yates ever entering into a romantic relationship. The chances of it ever happening had always been slim, yes, but Benton had seriously thought there might be something there. But it was probably a good thing that Jo had come along when she did – the last thing Benton wanted was to be court-martialled for coming on to a straight superior officer. 

No, Jo’s presence was definitely for the best. But that didn’t mean it hurt Benton any less.

That hurt was almost exposed one afternoon when Benton was following the Brigadier through the halls of UNIT HQ, listening attentively as he informed him about the upcoming Global Peace Conference UNIT was tasked with handling security for. When the Brigadier suddenly stopped in his tracks to look at something on the wall, Benton almost crashed right into him.

“Bloody privates…”

“Sir?” Benton asked, glancing down at the spot on the wall that had so captured the Brigadier’s attention.

Scribbled on the white wall in bright red permanent marker was a crudely inked rhyme – _Jo and the Captain, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G_. As immature as it was, that Jo and Yates’ flirtation was so well known among the UNIT staff was a little upsetting. If he stood a chance with Yates before, he certainly didn’t now.

“I’ll have to get that cleaned up,” the Brigadier muttered under his breath before carrying on with their original discussion. Benton, however, couldn’t take his eyes off the drawing – it was such a silly thing to be bothered by, and yet he couldn’t help it. The Brigadier frowned. “Are you coming, Sergeant?”

Benton snapped to attention, yet he was unable to meet the Brigadier’s eyes. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

As Benton approached, the Brigadier cocked his head, his expression narrowing into one of concentration. He seemed to be studying Benton’s face, which brought him no end of worry.

“Sir?”

“Has something upset you, Sergeant?” the Brigadier asked, causing Benton’s muscles to tense. He didn’t know what to think when the Brigadier chuckled. “I didn’t think you’d be so bothered about a bit of childish graffiti.”

Benton blinked, then shook his head. “Oh, uh, it’s not that, sir.” At this stage, he’d give anything to crawl into a hole and never come out again. God forbid the Brigadier know that his sad pining for Captain Yates had been brought on by a silly little scribble.

“I see…” Not convinced, the Brigadier glanced between Benton and the drawing for a little while before a smirk bloomed on his face. “Ah.”

“Ah?”

“Don’t worry, Sergeant. I’m sure it’s just a childish rumour.” He had the air of a father consoling his son about his first heartbreak, and Benton wasn’t sure if he could believe what was happening.

“Er, yes, sir. I’m sure it is.”

“But I’m sure if it bothers you that much, you could clear it up with Miss Grant herself,” the Brigadier said as he started down the corridor again. He glanced back to Benton with a knowing look in his eye. “I’m sure she’d be flattered, Sergeant.”

The tension Benton was carrying released – the Brigadier thought he fancied Jo. The idea of Benton fancying Yates had never crossed his mind and, now that the stress of being caught out had dissipated, Benton realised just how ridiculous his concerns had been. Of course, the Brigadier would assume he was disappointed that Jo wasn’t available anymore, it was just common sense. And it was sweet seeing the Brigadier give his seal of approval to Benton and Jo seeing each other, even if Jo would never be more than a friend. 

Benton smiled, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll think about it, sir.”

***

Mike downed his second drink of the night in one go, the buzz of his first one only just starting to kick in. He was out on the town with Jo, making the most of his weekend and trying to ignore what had been bothering him since the auton invasion. But the music was loud, the drinks were good, and Jo, as usual, was exceptional company.

“Careful, Mike,” she said with a laugh, sipping on her beverage. “I hope you’re not a lightweight.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Mike replied with a grin, and Jo laughed again. They were at their favourite club, a little hole in the wall place that neither of them knew the name of. Something to do with fire.

They’d gone there on their first night out together when neither of them was sure where to go and Jo had just decided to drag Mike into the first open door she saw. She was like that, Jo, all spontaneous and fun-loving. It was hard to have a bad time when she was around, whether they were on a mission together or out dancing. They’d become fast friends, but both of them knew that their relationship wouldn’t go beyond that – it was one of the first things they’d figured out about each other. They’d seen two men kissing on the dancefloor one night and when it became apparent how little Jo minded about that sort of thing, a very drunk Mike told her that he liked men as much as he liked women and that she couldn’t tell anyone or else he’d be court-martialled. Happy to keep that secret, Jo proceeded to treat him just as she had before – like a good friend.

Of course, soon after he told her, Jo got it into her head that there had to be a member of UNIT personnel that Mike had feelings for. She wasn’t wrong, because Mike still thought that Benton was the most wonderful human being to ever walk the Earth, but he’d held off from telling her. He loved Jo to pieces, but she seemed like the kind of person who would act on that information. Because although she was doing an excellent job of keeping Mike’s sexuality a secret, he knew that if he told her about Benton, she’d do everything in her power to set them up. As nice as that would be, he didn’t want to ruin what he had with Benton more than he already had.

“Mike,” Jo started, suddenly serious. “I have something I need to tell you.”

“You do?” Mike asked, wondering where this was going.

Jo nodded. “I’m very, very worried about you.”

“Worried about me? Why?”

She took another sip of her drink and swallowed. “Because you haven’t shown a single sign of having any sort of love life, and I think that’s very upsetting.”

“Thanks,” he said, not without a bite of sarcasm. “That’s really nice, Jo.”

“I’m serious! I mean, you’re such a catch.” Jo started gesturing with her glass, and Mike eyed the liquid sloshing about in it with some concern. “There’s got to be someone you fancy! Or someone you think fancies you. It’s just not fair that a good-looking man like you is wasting away in military celibacy!”

Mike gave a wry chuckle. “I’m flattered.”

“Come on, Mike.” She leaned in, looking him right in the eyes. “Tell me who it is, and I promise you I’ll never talk about it again.”

“Assuming there is someone.”

“Believe me, I know,” Jo said with all the seriousness in the world. “You look like a man in love, Michael Yates, and I’m not leaving this bar until I find out who they are.”

Mike shook his head and laughed, finding her perseverance rather endearing. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to tell her that he did fancy someone – not who they were, just that they existed. And besides, there was something about Benton he needed to get off his chest, and a slightly tipsy Jo seemed like the perfect person to share those woes with.

“Come on, Mike! Tell me tell me tell me-”

“Alright, alright,” Mike said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “There is someone-”

“I knew it!”

“If you’ll let me finish.” Thoroughly chastised, Jo gave a little pout and let Mike carry on. “There is someone, you’re right about that. But I’m not going to tell you who they are, just what’s bothering me about them.”

Jo nodded. “Will we need more drinks?”

“Definitely.”

Mike waited as Jo ordered them another round, watching as the bartender started whipping them up. He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just made a mistake in agreeing to tell Jo, worried that he might accidentally let Benton’s name slip into the conversation. But he supposed he had no choice now – Jo was hardly going to let this go.

When their drinks arrived, Jo held hers in two hands and sipped it, looking over the rim at Mike with an expectant look in her eye. Mike took a deep breath before starting.

“Alright, so there is someone that I fancy. A lot. And I have done for almost a year now. Um…” It really was quite unnerving to be talking about this stuff aloud. “And I thought that he and I were starting to hit it off. We spent a lot of time together, we were getting to know each other well, and even though I know we’d never be able to, you know, get together, I was starting to get my hopes up.” As Jo nodded along, Mike started to get a little het up. “But he’s been avoiding me since the autons, and I can’t figure out why. I don’t know if it’s something I’ve done to offend him, or if he’s just lost interest, or what. And I can’t ask him because then he’d figure out that I like him that way, and it’s just – ugh!”

As Mike threw his head into his hands, Jo reached out to give his back a gentle rub. Lifting his head, he took a much-needed swig of his drink. Then another. Before he could take another one, Jo gently eased it out of his hands and placed it beside her empty glass.

“Easy, Captain.”

“Sorry, it’s just… frustrating.”

“Oh, I get it,” Jo said with a firm nod. “So, you’re certain you haven’t done anything to offend him?”

“I didn’t think I did, but maybe I have. It just seemed so sudden… And I thought we were getting on so well.”

Jo continued to rub his back. “Well, if you’re certain you didn’t, I’ll believe you. I hope they’re not doing this just to mess you around.”

Mike shrugged. “He didn’t seem the type.”

“Oh, you poor thing.” Jo turned her back rub into a little half hug. “I’ve never heard you sound so sad! Whoever this person is, I ought to give them a thrashing for making you so upset.”

The image of the pint-sized Jo trying to thrash the much larger Benton forced a smile onto Mike’s face. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not worth the fuss.”

“I think it is.”

“Just leave it, Jo. Please?”

Jo frowned, a low hum escaping her lips. “Alright. I’ll leave it alone – for now.”

“Jo.”

“Fine! Fine. Just don’t expect me to stop trying to cheer you up, ok?”

Mike nodded, although his smile was weakening. He supposed he should be grateful – even if Benton was avoiding him, at least he had friends like Jo who had his back.

Somehow, that didn’t console him as much as it was supposed to.


	5. Missing

_~1971~_

The last thing Benton remembered was the ambush.

He was part of the convoy moving the Thunderbolt missile to where it was going to be disposed of, following the orders of the ever-capable and still handsome Captain Yates. Benton didn’t know much about the missile himself – all he knew was that it was full of nerve gas and needed to be disposed of as soon as possible. Of course, there was always tension surrounding operations of this sort, but Benton hadn’t expected their convoy to be ambushed by a bunch of vagrants and prisoners. Perhaps he’d just been naïve.

But, naïve or not, Benton had still managed to make a mess of things. When the prisoners began opening fire on the convoy, Benton had no choice but to swerve out of the way to avoid damaging both himself and the expensive UNIT land rover he was driving. He’d hoped that he’d be able to start fighting back once he’d got the rover to safety, but it wasn’t to be. He’d swerved too hard and sent the rover tumbling into a ditch, and he knocked his head hard against the steering wheel as the vehicle collided with the ground below.

The whole world was a blur around him, and he could only just hear gunfire and yelling over the ringing in his ears. He vaguely recognised that someone was trying to get inside, the rough sound of the rover door forcing open startling him back into half-consciousness. Someone grabbed hold of him and tried to pull him out, but their face was a blur – at the very least, he could tell they weren’t from UNIT. Whoever they were, they soon lost interest in him, letting him go and leaving him to slump forward, his top half dangling out the side of the car. He properly blacked out then, not even the loud bang of gunshots and the scraping of motorbikes against concrete able to keep him awake.

It was only when someone rested their hand on his cheek that Benton came to again, but it was only for a brief moment. His head was throbbing too much to stay awake, and his whole body was aching from the impact of the crash. But when he opened his eyes, it was to the sight of Captain Yates – it was his hand gently rested on Benton’s cheek, his brows knitted in concern and his uniform bloodied from the battle. He almost thought he was hallucinating, that Yates coming to his side when he needed him most was just a fancy of his imagination. But the fear in Yates’ eyes was too real for Benton to have made it up, and his hand was warm.

“I’m so sorry, Benton.” Yates’ voice sounded distant despite his close vicinity. Benton gave a low moan in reply, but Yates was long gone before he could hear it, dashing off to where Benton couldn’t follow. It was only then that Benton well and truly fell unconscious, his body too weary to carry on, and the thought of Yates being there to care for him lulling him into slumber.

When he finally woke up properly, he found himself surrounded by UNIT soldiers. A medic was wrapping a bandage around his head, which hurt like the devil, and he could see the Brigadier approaching him from afar. Benton glanced around at the crowd, desperately searching for Yates among the throng of soldiers and medics. But he wasn’t there. A spike of fear stabbed through his heart – something must have happened to him. It had to have been a hallucination when he saw him earlier, Benton’s subconscious telling him that the man he loved was in danger. If he hadn’t just sustained a nasty knock on the head, Benton would’ve dismissed that notion as ludicrous, but in his current state, it frightened him out of his wits.

Yates had to be alright. He’d never forgive himself if he wasn’t.

The Brigadier soon came to crouch by his side, interrogating Benton about what had happened when the convoy was ambushed. Benton did his best to answer, although he proved rather useless since he’d crashed the rover shortly after the whole thing began. But throughout the conversation, the only person he could think about was Yates.

_Please be alright._

“Is that all you can tell me?” the Brigadier asked after Benton had recounted what he knew about the ambush.

Benton nodded, although he soon regretted moving his head so quickly. “It all happened so quickly, sir.”

“Did you see what happened to Captain Yates?” Benton’s chest tightened.

No, he didn’t see what had happened to Captain Yates, and that was what was so distressing to him. He had to tell the Brigadier that Yates was in trouble. He had to help him somehow. “I think they got him, sir. We need to-”

But the Brigadier shook his head. “Not unless they took the body with them. One of the bikes is missing.”

One of the bikes was missing… That brief hallucination he’d had of Yates flickered through his mind again, and the sadness he’d felt when Yates ran away from him suddenly gave way to hope. What if it hadn’t been a hallucination after all, and Yates had just run off to get a bike to go after the prisoners? They’d taken the Thunderbolt, by the looks of things – he must have gone after them to get the missile back. He should’ve known Yates wouldn’t get himself into peril that easily. He had too much grit.

“Well, maybe he followed them, sir?” Benton suggested, trying to keep the hope out of his voice.

“Yes, maybe…”

Benton managed to tell the Brigadier a little more about what he remembered from the ambush before he got up to leave, leaving Benton alone with the medic. He sat back and let the medic do his job, still playing his brief moment with Yates over and over again in his mind.

It had been such a small, tender interaction, and Benton could still feel the lightest remnants of Yates’ hand resting on his cheek. He’d spent so long convincing himself that he and Yates were a lost cause that such a display of affection felt revolutionary, lighting up a spark of hope within him that he’d been trying so hard to put out. In a moment of emergency, when he should’ve been going straight after the prisoners, Yates had gone to him first. He’d needed to see if Benton was alright, and he’d looked so frightened for him… Benton had never seen him look at Jo like that.

Yates’ words rang clear in Benton’s mind – “I’m so sorry, Benton.”

But what was he sorry for?

***

Sitting in the window of his office, gazing out at the starry night, Mike took a drag of his cigarette and sighed. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be there – the Brigadier had given him strict orders to go straight home and rest once the Master had been sorted out and the Peace Conference had been set back on track. But he couldn’t bring himself to go home, not when he still hadn’t seen Benton since the ambush.

He knew Benton was alright. According to the Brigadier, he’d been working up at Stanford Prison and helping them get everything sorted out, apparently recovered from his injuries. But the last time Mike had seen him, he’d been dangling limply from the side of the landrover, pale as a sheet, with a thick stream of blood trickling down the side of his face. At that moment, Mike had wished more than anything that he could stay with him, look after him, make sure he wasn’t alone when he was already in such pain. But he couldn’t – their attackers were making off with the Thunderbolt, and he couldn’t just sit by and let that happen.

But that whole time, even when chasing after the prisoners and being captured by the Master, his concerns for Benton’s wellbeing were a constant in his mind. It was half the reason he’d been so determined to escape from the Master’s clutches – yes, he needed to tell the Brigadier where they’d taken the Thunderbolt, but to him, Benton was just as important. Of course, it brought him no end of relief when Major Cosworth had told him that Benton had survived the ambush with no more than a mild concussion, but Mike wouldn’t be convinced until he saw that Benton was fine for himself.

He felt like an idiot for caring so much. Ever since the auton invasion, Benton had displayed no desire to be involved with him anymore, avoiding him at every turn. It was all so bloody hopeless-

A throb of pain in his arm brought Mike back down to Earth. He’d been in the wars that day – he’d got shot in the hand during the ambush, and then again in his shoulder when he was pursuing the Thunderbolt. That coupled with all the bruises and bumps he’d sustained and the rope burns from his brief period as the Master’s prisoner didn’t make for the best experience. But he’d taken as many painkillers as was safe that day, and he wasn’t so desperate as to risk taking more. So, he just sat in his window, waiting for Benton to arrive at HQ and hoping the nicotine would take his mind off of the pain.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Mike called, quickly stubbing out his cigarette and sliding off the windowsill, brushing down his uniform so he’d look presentable. But when the door swung open and he saw Benton waiting for him on the other side, he forgot all decorum and raced forward to greet him, catching himself before he went so far as to hug the bemused Sergeant. Mike cleared his throat, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Sergeant – um, Benton. It’s good to see you’re alright.”

“You too, sir. Um. Yates.”

They stood there in silence for a while, Mike having no idea what to say and Benton seeming to have forgotten why he was there in the first place. Mike looked up, somewhat reassured at the soft red glow of Benton’s cheeks. But there were bruises around his hairline and a few stitches where he’d cut his head in the crash, and it took all of Mike’s willpower not to lean in and inspect them closer.

It was strange. He’d been so desperate to see Benton all day, but now that the moment had arrived, he was at a loss for words. He settled for a show of hospitality, inviting him to sit down. Benton took the offer with a good-natured smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Yates took a seat on the other side of the desk and took a moment to compose himself before speaking to him again. “How’s your head feeling?”

“Not as bad as your arm, I suspect.”

Mike glanced down at the sling with a small, chagrined smile. “Yes, I suspect you’re right.”

“What happened to you? If you don’t mind my asking.” Benton bit his lip as if preparing to be punished for impertinence.

“The Master’s goons managed to get some bullets into me, that’s all,” Mike explained. He wasn’t offended by the question, given that he was aching to ask Benton the same. “I suspect I’ll be stuck behind this desk for a bit, though. The Brigadier was pretty clear that he didn’t want me out on the field until my arm’s fully healed.”

“And fair enough too,” said Benton. He then lowered his voice, his eyes dropping to his lap. “You’re not invincible. I know you like to think you are, but you’re not.”

Mike mulled over the statement for a while. He couldn’t be offended because it was true – he did tend to be reckless with his wellbeing, not caring about the consequences of his actions when he was the only one who could be hurt by them. It was strange hearing it spoken out loud, but he couldn’t punish Benton for being right.

“I suppose so,” Mike replied, offering Benton a weak smile. “I hope you weren’t worried about me going missing.”

Benton’s blush deepened. “I… To tell you the truth, I was. Very worried, actually. It’s, um…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s why I came by. To know for sure that you’re alright.”

“I am alright, Benton. And actually, I…” Now it was his turn to be honest. “I only really hung around HQ this evening to speak to you. For the same reason you wanted to speak to me.”

“You were worried about me?”

Mike nodded, a little too embarrassed to verbally agree. This wasn’t like his usual conversations with Benton, which were jocular and casual and strictly surface-level. It felt strange to be so vulnerable with him, and Benton seemed to be feeling the oddity of it all too. And yet it also felt so incredibly right to be talking in this way. Perhaps if they kept agreeing with each other, kept letting each other know they cared, their friendship would finally start progressing in the way Mike could only dream it would.

After a moment of silence, Benton spoke again. “I don’t want to keep you, but… There’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“Hm?”

“It’s just… After the ambush, after I got knocked out, I could’ve sworn I saw you. You came over to check on me then ran away. I’ve been trying to figure out if it was a hallucination or not all day, so I just thought I’d better ask.”

Mike stiffened – he thought Benton had been unconscious when he went to check on him. He thought he’d be able to get away with that one moment of tenderness because Benton wasn’t awake to see it, wasn’t awake to see just how much Mike cared for him. And Benton’s expression was so unreadable that he had no idea how he’d react if he admitted to the truth.

But Benton had done so much for him and been so good to him that the truth was all he deserved.

“You weren’t hallucinating. I did go to see you, and I’m sorry if that was too forward-”

“It wasn’t,” Benton quickly corrected, sitting up a little in his chair. “It wasn’t too forward at all. I appreciated it, actually.”

“You did?”

Benton nodded. “I did. And there’s one other thing I wanted to ask you about.”

“Alright.”

“Right before you left, you apologised to me. What for?”

Mike glanced at his lap, wishing his arm wasn’t in a sling so he could fiddle with his hands. At least that could give him something to focus on that wasn’t Benton’s beautiful, earnest, expectant gaze. “I was just… I was sorry I couldn’t stay with you. You looked like you were in so much pain, but they were taking the Thunderbolt, and I had to… I had to go. I’m sorry.”

Benton shook his head. “You don’t need to be. You had your duty – the Thunderbolt was your priority.”

“But you were hurt under my command, and-”

“Hey.”

Suddenly, Benton’s hand was resting over the top of Mike’s on the desk, and Mike’s breath immediately hitched at the sight of it. Benton froze once he realised what he’d done, but then Mike squeezed his hand to hold onto Benton’s a little tighter, and neither of them knew what to do next.


	6. Understanding

_~1971~_

Benton slammed his foot down on the accelerator, swerving the land rover from side to side in an attempt to shake off the legion of axons that were clinging to it. He glanced up at the rear-view mirror to see Yates crouching in the back of the rover, doing his best to fend off an axon with the butt of his gun. But there were too many of them – at every turn, dozens more of them appeared, all heading straight for their vehicle.

He gritted his teeth and did a sharp turn, giving an inward cheer when one of the creatures detached from the side of the vehicle, tumbling against the damp grass. But despite that small victory, it was becoming all too clear that getting the axons off their tail was a lost cause. There were too many of them – huge, blobby red things with tentacles that stung. They’d have to do something drastic if they wanted to make it out alive, or else they’d have no choice but to submit – and Benton knew which option sounded most appealing to him.

From the back of the rover, Yates cried out as one of the axons managed to sting him in the leg, but he promptly smacked it with the butt of his gun to get it off of him and delivered a swift kick to its middle to throw it off the rover. Benton’s heart was pounding – at the very least he was protected by the hardy exterior of the landrover, but Yates was out in the open and much more exposed to the axon threat. He needed to do something to protect him, but he couldn’t stop driving, or else they’d be completely overtaken by the creatures.

He was so distracted by figuring out how to get Yates out of peril that he didn’t notice the axon climbing onto the hood before it was too late. It smashed its bloated, puffy hand through the front window, and Benton barely managed to cover his eyes before he was showered in broken glass. He could only just hear Yates yelling his name under the screech of the tires and the roar of the creature, and the sting of the glass embedded in his skin only added to the feeling of sensory overload. Before the axon got a chance to do any more damage, Benton threw his arm out and smacked it in the head, buying him some time to figure out how to deal with this sudden attack.

“Sir!” Benton yelled, trying to get Yates’ attention, but when he glanced back all he saw was an axon trying to pin him to the floor, and Yates desperately trying to throw it off.

If he wasn’t being attacked by an axon himself, Benton would’ve dwelled in the hopelessness of the situation – submitting to the force of the axons was starting to seem like their only option. Everything in him protested at the thought, not for the sake of his own life, but for Yates’ – he couldn’t let him die, not when he had so much to live for.

With that in mind, Benton grabbed hold of the steering wheel and sharply turned the land rover once more in a last-ditch attempt to get them out of danger. While the axon on the hood managed to hold on tight, the one attacking Yates was thrown to the side, freeing the Captain and giving him room to move.

“Come on, sir, just get out of here,” Benton muttered under his breath, the prospect of sacrificing himself to save Yates’ life becoming closer and closer to reality. Yates had ample opportunity to get off of the rover and run back to the complex while Benton carried on as bait for the axons. But Yates stayed on the landrover, occupied by something that Benton couldn’t see. This was Yates’ only chance to make it out alive – why wasn’t he doing anything?

But then it all clicked together when Benton recognised the motion of Yates pulling the pin on a grenade, and the first glimmers of relief started to rush through his system. Yates turned to face Benton, a frantic look in his eye. “Benton! Jump!”

Managing to dodge a swipe from the axon on the hood, Benton shoved the door open and leaped out onto the damp grass, ducking and rolling as he landed with a thud. Yates did the same, landing a little less gracefully on his injured leg, and soon the two of them had set off at a sprint, neither of them bothering to look back as the rover burst into flames, taking the axons with it as it blazed off into the distance.

It was only when Yates tripped up that Benton skidded to a halt, and he soon found himself by his superior officer’s side, kneeling beside him.

“Come on, sir, we’ve got to-”

“Benton, look.”

Benton turned to look at what Yates was pointing at. All the axons were following the flaming carcass of the rover as if he and Yates weren’t even there. Maybe they were trying to rescue their friend, or maybe they thought he and Yates were still in there. But whatever the reason, Benton was just glad that they were safe – for now, at least.

The two simply sat there for a while, panting from the exertion and shivering slightly in the cold wind of Dungeness. Yates looked about as exhausted as Benton felt, absentmindedly rubbing the leg that had been stung by the axon. The fabric of his trousers looked slightly burnt – the sting of the axon must have been more severe than Benton realised. He moved closer to him to offer some comfort, and Yates looked up at him with wide, tired eyes. Benton met his gaze with his own, and a sense of relief overwhelmed him when he realised that they both could’ve lost their lives, that Yates could’ve died when it was in Benton’s power to save him.

But he was still there. Knocked about and fatigued, but there. Safe. Alive. Overwhelming love for him burst in his heart, the kind of love you only felt when you were inches away from losing it. It took all of Benton’s willpower to not pull him in and kiss him on the lips, hold him close and tight and celebrate that he was there, safe and well and alive.

But then Yates did it for him.

He rested both hands on Benton’s cheeks and pulled him down, locking their lips together in a kiss that Benton had longed for since they first met in Scotland. At that moment, everything felt right in the world – he stopped caring about the threat of the axons or the fact that the Brigadier was expecting them back at the complex. All he cared about was Yates’ lips on his own, Yates’ body pressed against his, and the fact that Yates had loved him all along.

The entire time that Benton had been hiding his feelings, Yates had been doing the same thing. And it all made sense – the request to drop the ‘sir’ in private, when their hands had rested against each other after the Peace Conference. All it had taken was one silly rumour about Yates and Jo to convince him that all of that meant nothing, and he felt so stupid for believing it. But at the same time, he’d never been so happy to be wrong in his life.

Eventually, they separated. One of Yates’ hands lingered on Benton’s cheek before he yanked it away, suddenly unable to meet Benton’s eyes.

“I- I’m sorry, that was-”

But Benton rested his hand on Yates’ face and turned his head to look at him, a soft smile warming his battered and bloody face. “It’s alright. We’re alright.”

Yates let out a shaky breath, a lopsided smile breaking out on his face as he laid his hand on top of Benton’s. “We’re alright.”

And at that moment, being alright was the most wonderful feeling in the world.

***

As soon as he got the chance, Mike invited Benton over to his flat.

They intended to talk – about what their kiss had meant, how they felt about each other, how they’d move forward with their relationship. But they’d spent their whole relationship just talking, and by the time Benton had got settled on Mike’s sofa they were already getting physical. That kiss had opened up a dam of emotions and physicality that was likely to never close, and Mike would be surprised if they ever went back to just talking ever again.

Benton was a wonderful kisser. He was so warm and gentle, and he was so careful not to exacerbate any of Mike’s injuries from the battle with the axons. Mike gave him the same courtesy, doing his best not to aggravate any of the tiny scratches that littered Benton’s body from the broken glass. But he felt like he fit against Benton perfectly, his lithe frame slotting in against Benton’s burlier body like a missing puzzle piece. That certainly was what Benton was to him – a missing puzzle piece that Mike was incomplete without.

Smiling into their kisses, Benton ran a hand down the side of Mike’s face and then down to his chest, where he started fiddling with the buttons of Mike’s shirt. Mike tensed, knowing exactly where this was going, and a sudden pit of dread started to form in his stomach. The kind of dread he hadn’t felt since his days at Eton.

“Bedroom?” Benton suggested, his voice low, his tone flirtatious. Mike nodded, trying his best to smile and hide how terrified he was.

Mike knew what Benton wanted – it was only natural to want sex in a relationship, especially when he and Benton had been holding back for so long. But if sex was a release for Benton, then it was a nightmare for Mike. Because for Mike, love was lust and lust was love.

He thought he’d put those Eton boys behind him. He’d abstained from sex the moment he left for the RAF, associating the act with nothing but one-sided misery and fear. It was the lack of sex that helped him to forget it, move on, and even though those memories of boys forcing him into it still kept him up some nights, they vanished from his everyday mind as if they’d never happened. And his relationship with Benton hadn’t dug up those fearful memories because, in all honesty, he never thought he’d ever get into this situation with him. But now he was, and, as he led Benton through to his bedroom, the wounds that time had healed were reopening.

A tight feeling of panic began to well up in his chest as Benton playfully pulled him towards the bed, a cheeky grin on his face. He didn’t want this. This was going to ruin everything, but he should’ve known it was inevitable. Sex went against everything he loved about Benton – his kindness, his gentleness, his sweetness. He was everything those Eton boys weren’t, and yet relationships with both led them to the same end. He felt cheated, duped. He thought his relationship with Benton would be different, but here he was, pushing Mike onto the bed, revealing that, no matter how nice a man appeared, he only wanted one thing. Callous, unromantic, harsh, painful sex. Mike shouldn’t have been so naïve.

Mike squeezed his eyes shut, trying so hard to slow his breathing. This was what Benton wanted, and as much as it pained Mike to do it, he had to comply because he loved him. Because that was all romance was – Mike was the one who gave, and Benton was the one who asked. It didn’t matter what Mike wanted, because Mike didn’t matter. In his head, he repeated it to himself like a mantra – _I don’t matter, let him have what he wants. I don’t matter, let him have what he wants. I don’t matter, let him-_

“Yates? Yates, what’s the matter?”

Mike’s eyes snapped open. “Huh?”

“You’re crying.”

“I am?” he choked out, trying to speak through his fear. He quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks then settled back into the bed, closing his eyes again. “It’s fine. Keep going.”

“I’m not going to if it’s upsetting you.”

“It’s not. Just keep going.” He just wanted it to be over with, and he couldn’t understand why Benton wasn’t just getting on with it. There he was, lying flat on his back, ready for Benton to do whatever he wanted him to do, and Benton wasn’t doing anything. Why couldn’t he just get it over with and put Mike out of his misery? He couldn’t bear to wait – he just wanted it all to be over.

He opened his eyes again when he felt Benton’s weight shifting off of him. Strangely enough, even though it seemed that the threat of sex was retreating, Mike felt his panic growing worse, the tightness in his chest growing too painful to stand.

“What are you doing? Please, just get on with it,” Mike begged, looking up at Benton with wide, desperate eyes. He was still crying, and he furiously wiped his tears away. The Eton boys hated it when he cried, called him a coward. He didn’t want Benton to hate him.

But Benton simply furrowed his brow in concern, leaning back to kneel on the bed. “Yates-”

“Don’t just sit there! Just do it, please. Please, Benton, just do it… please…”

Suddenly, Mike couldn’t breathe. Or maybe he was breathing too much. He’d fallen off the edge of reasonable thought, pure panic taking over his mind as his chest rose and fell with alarming speed. He squeezed his eyes shut, terrified of losing Benton because of his ridiculous cowardice, but also because he hated that Benton could be anything like the boys back at Eton. He hated this. He hated it all so, so much.

It was only once he felt Benton’s strong arms wrap around him that he started to feel some semblance of calm. Benton lifted him from where he was lying, pulling him gently into his lap and holding him tight. He eased Mike’s head onto his shoulder, holding it in place and caressing his hair with one hand while rubbing slowly up and down his back with the other. There was something about the pressure of Benton’s grip, the warmth of it, the firmness of it, that brought Mike down to earth. Although he was still breathing hard and he couldn’t think straight, at the very least he felt a little safer than he had before.

“It’s alright… just breathe…” Benton’s voice was quiet, soothing. “Cry if you need to. I don’t mind.”

And cry he did, although he couldn’t exactly help it. He could do battle against all the aliens in the universe, but nothing instilled fear in him more than situations like that, when he lost all control of his body and became nothing but a plaything to some callous lover. The fact that it was Benton who sought to use him that way made it so much worse, and yet there he was, comforting him, making him feel safe again. In his dazed and frightened state, it just confused him.

A fair amount of time passed by before Mike was ready to let go, his mind a little clearer and his breath a little stiller. He pulled away from Benton, wiping his eyes with a shaky hand. He couldn’t meet Benton’s gaze, much too ashamed to. What must he think of him?

“I- I’m sorry.” It was all he could say.

Benton gave a reassuring smile and gently rubbed Mike’s arm. “You don’t have to be. You didn’t do anything wrong. If anyone did something wrong, it was me.”

“No,” Mike said with a shake of his head. “That- that was what you wanted. I- I should’ve given it to you. I’m sorry-”

“Hey, no more apologies, alright? I shouldn’t have pushed you past what you were comfortable with. I just wished you’d said something, that’s all.”

Mike didn’t reply – he didn’t understand. He wasn’t used to having his feelings paid attention to. That wasn’t how these things worked. It was all so strange to him, almost uncomfortable. He just didn’t get it.

When Mike remained silent, Benton spoke again, scrubbing his hand over his face. “I’ve ruined this already, haven’t I?”

“No.”

“No?”

Mike shook his head, and he shuffled closer to Benton, easing back into his embrace. “You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s just been a while since I’ve done this sort of thing. I’ll get used to it in time, promise.”

“I don’t think being a bit rusty in the bedroom brings on episodes like that. Are you sure it wasn’t something I did?” He sounded genuinely concerned, like he actually cared. Of course, he did – caring about other people was Benton’s specialty. “I don’t want to hurt you, Yates.”

A beat of silence.

“It… It wasn’t you.”

Benton frowned. “Was it someone else?”

Mike hesitated. Benton was so close to figuring it out, but Mike would rather die than admit he’d let other people use him like that. He was supposed to be strong, a captain in the army. Army captains didn’t let things like that happen to them. And he didn’t want Benton to think any worse of him for knowing – the risk of losing him because of it was too great. So, he didn’t say anything, but his silence was enough of an answer for Benton. He tightened his embrace on Mike, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head.

“I’ll never hurt you like that. I promise.”


	7. Trust

_~1971~_

“I think you deserve an explanation about what happened last night.”

Benton turned around to see a rather sheepish looking Yates lingering in the doorway of the bedroom, looking rather concerned at the sight of Benton heading for his front door. “Please don’t go just yet?”

It was strange seeing Yates looking like that. Benton was used to seeing him all confident and headstrong, like there was nothing in the world that could scare him. But something had scared him last night – scared him badly – and Benton had spent the whole night worrying because he’d done something to set off a deep-seated fear in the man he loved.

He'd had no idea what to do when Yates had started panicking last night. It was completely out of the blue – mere seconds before they’d been enjoying the playful passion that always came before sex, but it all fell apart once they made it into the bedroom. Benton never would have pushed it that far if he’d known Yates would react like that, but he’d nodded when Benton asked, and he’d assumed it was fine. The moment he realised that it wasn’t fine at all, Benton wanted to do everything he could to make it so.

From what little Yates had said last night, Benton had got the impression that his past experiences with sex hadn’t been good ones, and that was what had set him off. That kind of thing had always been on the outskirts of Benton’s world, but he knew what it was like to be hurt by someone who was supposed to care. He’d felt a hot twist of anger inside him when Yates implied that he’d been the victim of something similar – he didn’t deserve that, and Benton hated that he’d contributed to Yates’ pain.

It gave him some hope that Yates let him stay the night – they’d fallen asleep together, Yates having dozed off in Benton’s arms shortly after the attack, and Benton didn’t dare disturb him. That morning, Benton had intended to slip away before Yates woke up, not wanting to upset him further. But with Yates standing in front of him now, fluffy brown hair tousled and still wearing yesterday’s crumpled clothes, Benton knew that he’d have to put that plan to bed. And, in all honesty, an explanation for what had happened between them last night would make him feel one hell of a lot better about where they stood.

“I’ll make us breakfast, and then we can talk about it,” Yates said in another attempt to convince Benton to stay. “I haven’t got much – would coffee and toast be alright?”

Benton gave a small smile. “Sounds perfect.”

Yates nodded, hesitating before hurrying off to the kitchen. Benton followed, making his way through the living room and taking a seat on the sofa. He hadn’t paid much attention to Yates’ living room the night before – too busy kissing him, and whatnot. But it was nice, and far from the plainer decoration of Benton’s flat. Although the sofa Benton was sitting on was more of a modern design, Yates had picked it out to match the antique armchair sitting in the corner by the bookshelf, which was stuffed full of old books Benton had never heard of. Expensive looking ornaments, bohemian knick-knacks, and family photos were scattered all about the place – on the coffee table, on top of the bookshelf, on the little side tables that sat on each end of the sofa. One photo, in particular, caught Benton’s attention, a larger one that took pride of place on the coffee table, and he picked it up to inspect it.

A fancy-looking couple stood on either side of their gaggle of children – Benton counted five in all, four boys and a girl. Judging by the clothing, it looked as though it was taken in the 50s, and Benton couldn’t help but smile at what had to be a younger Yates, who couldn’t have been more than ten at a guess. He put the photo back when he heard Yates coming through with their breakfast, but he was rather glad he’d seen it.

“Here. I wasn’t sure what you wanted on your toast, so I brought a few spreads, and I hope the coffee’s alright – I don’t make it that often,” Yates said as he entered, a tray covered in mugs and plates and jars in his hands. He was speaking rather quickly, as if he was trying to make up for something. Benton knew exactly what he was trying to make up for, and he wished Yates didn’t feel the need to.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Benton reassured him, taking his mug once Yates had set it down. “Thanks for this, it looks great.”

Yates managed a small smile, but he didn’t move to pick anything up from the tray. “Right. Last night then.”

“Only when you’re ready,” Benton said. He knew how difficult this must be for him – he wasn’t exactly looking forward to telling Yates about his relationship with his step-father. Assuming it would ever come to that. “You don’t have to tell me at all if you don’t want to.”

Shaking his head, Yates went to take Benton’s hand, and Benton let him. That was a good sign – so he hadn’t botched their relationship completely, then. “No. If we’re going to have a proper go at this, then we need to be honest with each other. And clearly, this is going to get in the way of things, so you might as well know.”

“Alright.”

“Right…” Yates took a deep breath. “I haven’t had the best experiences with, um, what we tried last night. There were these boys at school, and they’d take advantage of me in that way, and I… It’s all I can think about whenever I try it with someone else.” He gave a small, humourless chuckle. “That being said, you’re the only other person I’ve tried it with since then. So, I’m sorry you got the brunt of it.”

“Don’t be.” Benton gave Yates’ hand a small squeeze. Of all the different ways he wanted to react, getting angry at Yates wasn’t one of them. No, this wasn’t an issue he was familiar with, but he knew it had upset Yates and that was what mattered. He didn’t need to understand, not really, just so long as he gave Yates the support he needed. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Well, it’s hardly your fault,” Yates murmured, his expression clouded. “I understand if you don’t want to carry on like this. I’m a bit of a useless lover, so-”

“Hey. You’re not useless.”

“Except I am. Every time we try to sleep together, I’m going to have that ridiculous reaction, and yes, you’ll be nice about it now, but soon there’ll only be so much you can take before you just get frustrated with me and leave.” Yates took another deep breath, shutting his eyes for a moment. When he next spoke, his voice was low. “I don’t want to waste your time. You deserve better than that.”

Benton frowned. He’d never seen this side of Yates before, with the insecurity and the fear and the self-hatred. To know that all this time it had been lurking underneath his bravado and charm this whole time, that he’d been hiding this trauma away for so long – Benton had no idea how he’d managed it. Before now, Benton never would’ve guessed that Yates had such a difficult relationship with romance, given how much of an unashamed flirt he was sometimes. And yet now here he was, his defences dropped and his wounds on display, punishing himself for his victimhood.

But Benton didn’t feel how Yates thought he did. He didn’t love him because he wanted to sleep with him, he loved him because of how charming and clever and capable he was. He loved him because of his Cheshire Cat grin and the way his lips felt against his when they kissed. Of course, having sex with him was something Benton had been looking forward to, but he didn’t mind if Yates wasn’t ready for it, or didn’t want it at all. His feelings for him transcended the sexual – all he wanted was for Yates to be happy, and if sex was going to jeopardise that, he’d give it up in a heartbeat.

“Well,” Benton started after a moment of silence. “If I deserve better, then I can’t do much better than you, can I?”

Yates looked up, his eyes widening. “What?”

“I don’t care about all that stuff,” Benton said, still holding Yates’ hand tight. “It’s you I care about, not what we get up to in the bedroom. And who knows, one day you might feel ready to give it another go, and that’ll be great. But until then, I’m happy if you’re happy.”

The slightest twinges of a smile started to twitch at Yates’ lips, as if he couldn’t believe what Benton was saying. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly.” He opened his arms to pull Yates into a hug, and Yates reciprocated as soon as it was offered. “I haven’t spent a year pining after you only to give up at the first hurdle, you know.”

Yates’ laugh was music to his ears, and Benton couldn’t stop the smile that spread onto his face. Yates pulled back and kissed Benton on the lips, brushing his hair behind his ears once they’d separated. “You have no idea what that means to me, Benton. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Benton said, and Yates laughed again when he leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on his nose. “But if we’re going to have a proper go at this, I think it’ll be a bit awkward if you keep calling me Benton. Just John will do.”

“John,” Yates murmured, and it sounded so lovely on his lips. “I suppose you’d better start calling me Mike, then.”

***

“You know, sir, I think they’re desperate to get you out on that maypole.”

The Brigadier snorted, downing the last dregs of his pint. “I’ve done a lot of strange things in my day, Captain Yates, but dancing around the maypole with a white witch and an alien will not be one of them.”

Mike smiled into his drink, amused by his superior officer’s stiff upper lip. He glanced out the window of the Cloven Hoof pub to watch the festivities, his grin widening as he saw Jo, the Doctor, and John skipping around the decorative pole with the other villagers. He and the Brigadier were the only ones inside, everyone else outside enjoying the festivities. It was a nice end to an incredibly strange day, and Mike was glad to see everyone he cared about finally getting some time to unwind and enjoy themselves. UNIT life, as exciting as it was, didn’t exactly leave much time for recreation, so getting the rest of the day off to celebrate May Day with the villagers of Devil’s End was a greatly appreciated rarity.

He especially appreciated the chance to see John let loose and have a little fun. They’d just finished muddling through the first month of their relationship, and as smoothly as it was going, Mike had quickly realised that John wasn’t one for relaxation. He was much too dedicated to the job, and while that was great when they were on missions together, it wasn’t so much when they were trying to relax and watch the rugby or have a drink together. Admittedly, Mike had been somewhat of an over worker himself, but that was only in specific instances that he’d since grown out of. Working hard ran in John’s blood, so seeing him frolicking around the maypole was quite the May Day miracle.

“If you want to join them, you’re more than welcome,” the Brigadier suggested, drawing Mike’s attention away from the window. “You don’t need my permission.”

“I’ll consider it, sir.”

“According to Miss Grant, you’re quite the dancer.” There was a mischievous twinkle in the Brigadier’s eye, and it caught Mike rather off guard. Mischievous was the last word he’d use to describe his commanding officer, but he supposed encounters with the devil brought out new qualities in everyone.

That being said, the Brigadier wasn’t wrong. “She told you that?” When the Brigadier nodded, Mike gave a small laugh. “Oh, Jo… She’s right, I’m afraid, but I’m not much of a man for maypoles. A good club’s more my style.”

“Clubs, eh? You didn’t strike me as the type.”

Mike could only shrug before the door to the pub swung open, and he smiled at the sight of a slightly red-faced John walking towards him. His dark hair was ruffled from the wind and the exertion, and he’d shed his blue sports jacket to reveal the stripey dark green shirt underneath, tight against his muscular frame. To say Mike thought he was attractive was an understatement.

“I think you’d better get out there, sir,” John said, and the Brigadier sighed in response.

“Is it so important that I dance around that blasted thing?”

“Um, no, sir,” John replied, a little unsure of what the Brigadier was referring to. “The children all want to see a real army man, and Osgood’s having a bit of a hard time impressing them.”

“Can’t you impress them, Sergeant?”

John shrugged. “They want one in uniform, sir.”

“I see…” the Brigadier sighed, then rose from his seat, the legs of the barstool scraping against the wooden floor. “I suppose I can’t deny the children a bit of excitement. Enjoy the rest of your drink, Captain Yates.”

“I will, sir. Thank you.” Mike watched as the Brigadier made his way out of the pub, shutting the door behind him. He then looked up at John, bringing out the flirtiest grin he could manage. “And then there were two.”

“It’s just us in here?”

Mike nodded, hopping up off of the barstool and walking over to John. He took John’s hand. “Everyone’s too busy outside. We’ve got the whole place to ourselves.”

“We could go upstairs?” Benton suggested, putting their privacy first as usual. Keeping hidden was an unfortunate necessity of their relationship, and Mike would give anything to be able to be affectionate with the man he loved whenever he liked. But being in love with a man and being a soldier weren’t activities that mixed well, so hidden they had to stay.

Mike took a moment to think about it. “Better that booth in the corner there, I think. Fewer questions about why we’re hiding up in the bedroom together.”

“Good thinking.”

The pair of them made their way over to the booth, sliding into the seats that weren’t observable from the windows. Once he was sure they were safe, Mike leaned in to kiss John, resting his hand on the back of his neck. When they separated, John was smiling.

“I think I needed that.”

“Me too. How are you feeling? That thing in the cavern beat you up quite badly, didn’t it?”

John shook his head. “I’m fine, Mike. No damage done.”

“Good.” He kissed him again, and John carefully pulled him onto his lap as he did so. They kissed for a long while, just enjoying the warmth and the affection of each other’s company. Any fears Mike had harboured about their sex lives had completely washed away by this point – John had made it abundantly clear that they’d move at Mike’s pace, and it was that care and consideration that made him feel like he might be willing to try again. But for that moment, he was just happy to be held, and to be loved.

After a while, Mike rested his head on Benton’s shoulder, humming softly as John ran a hand through his hair. When he next spoke, it was with a grin.

“You know, John, I’m a little worried about our relationship.”

John tensed underneath him. “Are you?”

“Mhm.” Mike looked up at him with mock seriousness. “I think Miss Hawthorne might steal you from me, and now that you’ve gone and done the fertility dance together, I just don’t know how to feel.”

John laughed at that, his body relaxing once again. He had the most wonderful laugh, rich and warm and hearty. Mike would listen to it all day if he could. “Cheeky. Believe me, I was going to ask you before she stole me away.”

“Like I asked the Brigadier?”

“Yes, like you asked the Brigadier.”

It wasn’t long before their laughter faded back into kisses, making the most of their time together and losing themselves in the stolen moment. As Mike slipped his fingers underneath the buttons of John’s shirt to pop them open, he didn’t notice the sound of the pub door swinging open, nor did he hear the sound of approaching footsteps as he trailed his fingers down John’s tanned chest. John hadn’t noticed either, because when a sudden cry startled them from their lovemaking, he bit down on Mike’s lip in fright, causing Mike to yelp in pain and startle out of John’s grip. As he brought his hand to his bleeding lip, he turned around and almost screamed at the sight of Jo, her shock at seeing he and John together looking like it outweighed her shock at seeing the devil incarnate earlier that day.

If it had been anyone else, Mike would’ve been terrified. But Jo already knew that he was attracted to men and she was alright with it, so he could only hope she wouldn’t pose much of a threat to their relationship. But, in these situations, there was no knowing what would happen.

But after a tense couple of seconds, Jo broke out in a grin. “I knew it!”

John blinked, incredulous. “Knew what, miss?”

“Oh, please,” Jo started, plonking down on the booth opposite them. “With the way you two have been ogling each other for months on end, it’s a wonder nobody’s suspected anything.” Mike and John exchanged a glance, neither of them quite knowing what to make of the situation. Jo reached into her pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to Mike. “Here, for your lip.”

“Oh, right. Thanks.” Mike disentangled himself from John’s embrace, taking the handkerchief and holding it to his bloody lip. “I’m lost – you knew about us?”

“Well, not officially. But I could guess as much,” Jo explained. “I’ve been on the lookout ever since you told me there was someone at UNIT you fancied, and I couldn’t be happier that it’s you, Sergeant.”

John looked at Mike with a baffled frown. “Hang on – she knows you like men?”

“Um… Yes.”

“He was very drunk when he told me,” Jo added with a grin. “He was going at a mile a minute; I could hardly hear a word he said. But I got the idea soon enough.”

“Right.”

Suddenly, Jo’s grin turned into a frown. “Hang on, Mike – didn’t you say the bloke you fancied was avoiding you? Was that Benton, or someone else?”

“Um, it was Benton…” Mike felt his face warming up, and he tugged at the collar of his turtleneck. “But he’s not avoiding me now, so it’s alright.”

“Avoiding you? I never avoided you.” John sounded a little affronted, but mostly just confused.

Mike’s gaze fell to where his hands were fidgeting on the table. “It was right after the auton incident, and you suddenly started talking to me less and less. I thought I’d done something wrong to make you want to avoid me, and I might have vented to Jo about it… I shouldn’t have gossiped. I’m sorry.”

John took a moment to think, while Jo’s gaze bounced expectantly between them. His eyes lit up when he remembered. “Mike, I wasn’t avoiding you. I, uh… I thought you and Miss Grant were getting on so well, and enough rumours were going around that you two were an item, so I thought it’d be for the best if I kept out of your way. Seeing as I, um, had feelings for you.”

“You really believed those rumours?” Jo asked, a bright laugh in her voice. “Oh, Sergeant, you silly thing. You UNIT boys just can’t believe that a man and a woman can be good friends and nothing more, can you?”

“I can,” Mike said a little nonchalantly. “Considering you’re one of my dearest friends and all.”

“Oh, stop it.” Jo grinned, and she reached out for Mike’s hand and squeezed it. “You’re too sweet. But, in all seriousness, I think it’s just lovely that you two have bit the bullet and got together – you suit each other, you really do.”

John continued to look confused, but he’d visibly relaxed since Jo first arrived. “Um, thank you, Miss Grant. You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? We’d be ruined if this got out.”

“Of course, I won’t tell anyone. My lips are sealed.” Jo made a zipping gesture across her lips, then grinned. “Trust me.”

Both men shared a smile, relief flooding through both of them. Of course, Mike had never truly thought Jo knowing would be a problem, but it was good to be certain. And at that moment, he felt the happiest he had in a long time – he was in a relationship with the man he loved, his closest friend still cared for him, and life was good.

No – life was excellent.


	8. History

_~1972~_

People like Benton had very little to do with places like Auderly House, with their ostentatious grandiosity and their hallowed reputations. Benton had never seen the point in big houses like that – he preferred simpler ways of living, where all a family needed was four walls and a roof over their heads. Auderly House had more facilities than any family could need, and it just struck Benton as a shameless display of money, power, and ego. He supposed it wasn’t so bad now that it was officially the property of the British Government, but he still didn’t see the point in it.

But, regardless of how he felt about the House, UNIT had been assigned to keep it secure, so that was what he’d do – prevent anything untoward from happening to the upcoming Peace Conference and keep an eye out for the ghosts which were apparently haunting the place. Because of course there were.

Like the good soldier he was, Benton stood guard over the house as evening turned to twilight, the sky over Auderly House softening from blue to orange to purple. He’d had various duties to complete throughout the day – making sure Jo and the Doctor were set up alright inside, giving orders to all the corporals and privates under his command – but it had mostly just been standing around and keeping a lookout. Not exactly thrilling, but it had to be done.

Just as Benton checked his watch, the crunching of boots against the gravel pathway alerted him to the welcome sight of Mike making his way towards him. He smiled, the company of his lover exactly what he needed to stave off his boredom. Of course, they wouldn’t be able to get intimate, given that other UNIT men were crawling all over the place, but his company was still appreciated.

“Evening, Sergeant,” Mike said in greeting, refraining from using his first name for safety’s sake. They could never be too careful, and as frustrating as it was, it made the moments when they could be open with one another all the sweeter. “You ought to go on break – you’ve been out here for long enough, surely?”

Benton shrugged. “You know me. I do what I have to do for as long as I need to.”

“Well, you’re going to go on break now and take an evening stroll with me – and that’s an order.” He said it with one of his trademark Cheshire Cat grins, full of cheek and flirtation. It was exactly the type of smile Benton couldn’t resist, and he offered one in kind.

Mike led Benton away from his post, hailing over a nearby private to take his place before starting to wander along the grounds. Benton followed, keeping his eyes peeled for somewhere private they could duck into – a shed or an isolated part of the garden, perhaps.

As they wandered, Mike spoke again. “This place… It reminds me of home.”

“Does it?”

“Mhm.” Mike stopped in his tracks to look up at the house, stepping back a little to take it in. “My family home was the same style – well, one of them, anyway. Edwardian, I think.”

“One of them?” Benton repeated, an incredulous smile forming on his lips. “How many family homes did you have?”

Mike glanced up at Benton and shrugged, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Three in all, but that’s not counting our vacation homes.” He ducked his head in embarrassment. “I bet you think I’m a complete toff now.”

“Oh, I always knew you were a complete toff,” Benton replied, and Mike laughed. “But three houses? Really?”

He knew Mike came from a more genteel class than him – everything from his accent to the furniture in his apartment gave it away well enough. But it had never crossed his mind that Mike could’ve come from anything more than a family of well-off professionals. He’d certainly never considered that he was three houses and multiple vacation homes rich, but that was something he’d learned about Mike over the first year of their relationship – he was very good at hiding things.

“That’s right. And before you start having a go at me, I’m perfectly aware of how unnecessary that is,” Mike said as he started walking again. “If it were up to me, I’d sell the lot and give the money to people who actually need it. All we do is just sit on it like we’ve got nothing better to do with it.”

“So, I’m guessing it’s not up to you?”

“Oh, no. I’m last in line for ownership of our family property, I’m afraid.” He added with a bite of sarcasm: “Perks of being the youngest child, eh?”

Benton chuckled. “Doesn’t sound like much of a perk to me.”

“That’s my point.”

“Ah. Right.” Benton rubbed the back of his neck. “So, you’ve got siblings, then?”

Mike nodded. “Four of them.”

Of course – Benton thought back to the photo on Mike’s coffee table, with the couple surrounded by their hoard of children. “Must’ve been hard to get a word in, if there were five of you.”

“Oh no, I’m mum’s favourite. She always doted on her youngest, and seeing as I was the last one she popped out, I’ve maintained that status permanently.”

“Lucky you.”

Mike gave a humourless laugh. “Lucky’s one word for it.”

“Tell me about them? Your siblings, I mean.”

Breathing out a small puff of air, Mike stopped to lean against one of the white columns surrounding the house. “Well, there’s George, David, Louisa, Walter, and me. Then there are all the in-laws too, but I won’t bore you with them. George is a doctor, but he spends all his time managing the houses now that Dad’s getting too doddery to do it himself. David’s making a name for himself as a lawyer, Louisa’s just got herself a job as a professor at Oxford, and Walter’s gone into politics. When I joined the military, my parents were very pleased to get the full set of children with respectable careers.”

“So, I’m guessing they don’t know you hunt little green men for a living?”

Mike grinned. “Certainly not. As far as they’re concerned, I’m still with the RAF. And I think it’ll be best if it stays that way.” 

“Definitely.” Benton looked down at the ground, scuffing the grass with his boot. “My family don’t even know I’m in the military in the first place.”

Tilting his head, Mike furrowed his brow. “They don’t?”

“No.”

“Why not?” When Benton shrugged, Mike frowned. “What’s your family like, John? You never talk about them.”

“I…” Benton hesitated.

The last thing he wanted to do was think about his family: the step-father who beat him, the mother who threw him out, and the little sister who hadn’t bothered to seek him out despite him giving up his whole childhood for her sake. Mike’s gaggle of overbearing aristocrats sounded like a dream in comparison. He looked up at Mike with an apologetic smile.

“I’d rather not start now if that’s alright.”

***

John’s flat was plain, with very little in the way of decorations that reflected the person who lived there. Mike had offered to help him decorate the place, and they’d even gone so far as to spend a day out looking for new furniture for it. But there was very little that caught John’s eye, and they finished the day as empty-handed as they’d begun – he hadn’t seen any problems with the way things were and was happy to let them stay that way. Mike wasn’t going to force him to do anything he didn’t want, so he didn’t push it, but he did find it a little odd that John insisted on living in a home so lacking in character. He supposed it was just down to his practical nature.

But for whatever reason, the state of John’s flat began to bother him. Compared to his flat, which he was constantly decorating with newly bought antique knick-knacks and various other bits and bobs, John’s was a wasteland. Now that they’d well and truly settled into their relationship they would spend the weekend at each other’s flats, alternating where they’d stay every week. It made the contrast between the different homes all the more striking.

And it wasn’t as if John didn’t like the cluttered eccentricity of Mike’s place – quite the opposite. He seemed a lot happier whenever he visited, although whether that was the fault of the interior design or the designer himself remained uncertain. But he did spend a lot of time asking Mike about the books he owned, where he came across all his little ornaments, which bits of furniture he’d taken from his various family homes. He enjoyed being in a well-decorated environment, so why not give that treatment to his own home? To Mike, it just didn’t make any sense.

He was curled up on John’s sofa one evening, reading the book he’d brought from home while John flicked through the various takeout menus he’d accumulated over the years, on the hunt for a suitable dinner. As much as he tried to concentrate on the pages in front of him, the empty blankness of John’s walls was impossible to ignore, and it irritated him to no end. He had no idea why it bothered him so much, but he couldn’t hold back anymore – he just had to say something.

“I wish you’d let me take you out shopping again,” he said, sliding a marker into his book. “I bet this place could look really lovely if you put some effort into it.”

John gave a short sigh. “We’ve been over this, love. I know you think it’s boring, but this is the way I like it.”

“Hm.” Mike frowned, studying John’s expression as he turned his attention back to the menus. He looked fairly neutral, unbothered by Mike’s badgering, but there was the slightest twinge of discomfort on his lips that piqued Mike’s attention. He wondered if he should press it or not – John had been so good with not prying into the parts of Mike’s life he didn’t want to talk about, so surely, he deserved the same courtesy?

He’d ask him one more time, then he’d retire the subject forever.

“What if I bought you a nice piece of art or something? Would you hang it up on the wall?” he asked, nudging his boyfriend with his shoulder.

John wrapped his arm around Mike’s shoulder, pulled him close, and kissed his cheek. “Of course, I would.”

“But wouldn’t it get in the way of this whole ‘boring chic’ thing you’ve got going on?”

“I suppose, but I wouldn’t mind because it would remind me of you. It’d be different from something I bought myself.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” John replied with a half-hearted shrug. “It just would be.”

Mike frowned. “I think there’s more to this than you’re letting on, darling.”

“I just… I don’t know.” John sighed heavily, staring at his lap. Mike felt him grow tense beside him, and he immediately pulled John closer, kissing him and holding him in a way he knew would comfort him. From the way John was reacting, Mike had a suspicion that this whole flat decoration business ran a lot deeper than personal taste. Most things did, in his experience.

“John… If something’s the matter, you know you can tell me.” He added with a humourless smile: “Lord knows I’ve told you all my deepest and darkest. So, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t open up to me.”

With a small, sad smile, John took Mike’s hand and gave it a small squeeze. “Thanks.”

“Of course. So, is there something?”

“I don’t know… I guess, with this whole flat thing, I just don’t want to put a lot of effort into something that won’t last.”

Mike furrowed his brow, not quite following. “Something that won’t last? What, are you thinking of shifting somewhere new?”

“No, no, not that.”

“So, what is it?”

Taking a moment to think, John bit his lip, his hand still closed around Mike’s smaller one. “I… I just know it won’t last. Good things never do. And I’m just worried that one day something’s going to happen and I’ll lose everything. I got this place because the Brig set me up with it once I’d joined UNIT, and I’d lose it if I left, so when something happens that means I have to leave, I’ll lose this place too. So, I just don’t see any point in fiddling around with it when I’ll just end up losing it.”

As soon as John finished speaking, Mike pulled him into a hug, cradling him tight against his body and gently running his hand through his hair. He’d had no idea John had these worries in his head, and goodness knew how long he’d been keeping them bottled up inside. Of course, there was a lot about them that Mike didn’t understand, but he didn’t doubt John would explain. Unless asking questions just made things worse.

Mike pulled away to meet John’s gaze, brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes with a tender hand. “You know, you’re speaking like all this is certain. How do you know you’ll end up leaving UNIT? I doubt the Brig would want to let you go – you’re one of his best men.”

“Good things don’t last, Mike.”

“You don’t know that. If you don’t want to leave UNIT and lose this place, then you don’t have to. And I highly doubt you’d do something to get you dismissed permanently,” Mike said, hoping his words would soothe the fears of his lover. He hated seeing John upset more than anything else in the world.

But John shook his head. “But I do know that. I didn’t want to leave my family either, but-” He cut himself off like he’d just said something he shouldn’t have. Blushing, he turned away from Mike, but Mike gently guided him back so they were looking at each other again.

“You can tell me, it’s alright. Keeping this sort of thing bottled up is the worst you can do – and whatever it is, I won’t tell it to anyone. Promise.”

“You’re sweet.”

“I’m serious.”

John gave the slightest ghost of a smile, and he took Mike’s hand that was resting on his cheek and kissed it. He then placed it back on Mike’s lap and took a deep breath before he started to speak. “I’m just not used to having good things – really good things – last very long. I had a wonderful childhood, but then Dad and Chris, um…” John bit his lip. “They died during the war, and then that was that over. Then nothing really good came along until my mum met my step-dad, and for a while, things were going great. But he started hitting me, and mum kicked me out, so, um…”

“Oh, John… I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“It isn’t. That’s probably the least fine thing that could ever happen to anyone,” Mike insisted, his cheeks flushing hot.

John just took his hand and patted it. “There’s no point getting angry about it now. It was years ago, and I haven’t spoken to him since I left.”

“Still, it’s affected you.”

“I suppose… But I don’t know.” John sighed, eager to move on from his step-father. “It just seems that whenever I start feeling properly happy, something pulls it out from under me and it’s just… gone. It’s like all I can be is miserable or mediocre.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true, Mike. And I’m terrified because I’ve been feeling so happy and content lately, and any second now something’s going to happen to take it all away from me. I’ll lose my position at UNIT, lose this flat, lose… lose you.” John swallowed, and Mike saw the beginnings of tears starting to prick in his eyes. “And I don’t want that. But it’s going to happen whether I like it or not.”

Mike was quick to pull John in for another hug, squeezing him tight. As John rested his head on his shoulder, Mike could feel the fabric of his sweater growing slightly damp, and it just about broke his heart. He’d never seen John cry before.

“You’re not going to lose me, John. I promise. I love you too much to let you go – and I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s true, and I want you to know that.”

John laughed a little. “It’s not ridiculous, love. It’s good of you to say.”

“But you believe me, don’t you?” Mike pulled back and looked John dead in the eye, speaking with severity. “I’m not going to leave you, John. You aren’t going to lose your job. And the only reason you’ll lose this flat is because, at some point, we’re going to buy a new place together.”

“You mean that?”

“Of course, I do. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

At John’s small smile, Mike gave one in kind and leaned up to wipe his tears away. John caught his hand and pulled him into a kiss, long and deep and tender. When they pulled apart, he seemed a little calmer.

“Thank you, Mike.”

“You’re very welcome. And I’m going to keep saying those things until you believe them, alright?” He added with a grin: “I might have to order you to believe them if things get out of hand.”

“What, as my commanding officer?”

Mike nodded, and John gave a sharp salute before the two of them fell into laughter. “Oh, dear… But, in all seriousness, I want you to remember what I said whenever you start thinking like that again. And thank you for telling me.”

“It does feel better to have someone else know. Puts it into perspective.”

“See? I knew it would help.”

John nodded, already seeming a little lighter, and Mike was glad to know that John was comfortable sharing such sensitive information with him. Of course, learning that his step-father had abused him made him want to track the man down and have him shot on sight, but at the very least he was in John’s past now. That was some comfort, if a small one. But Mike knew a thing or two about being abused, and in that respect, he understood how John felt completely – like you couldn’t trust anyone or anything, that nobody had your best interests at heart, that everything that felt good was just a cruel ruse. It was the kind of thing you could never quite leave behind, the kind of thing that haunted you for the rest of your days no matter how much you did to combat it. He had no idea how long it would take John to abandon his fears, if indeed he ever would.

And yet, when Mike next went to visit John’s flat, the once blank wall was now covered by a landscape painting, the sky stretching out blue and beautiful over rolling green hills, and two figures lying together under the sun, their hands entwined. 


	9. Fire

_~1972~_

Benton watched as the Doctor, Brigadier, and Jo hurried out the door, trying his best to hide how desperately he wanted to go with them. The Master, as per usual, was causing havoc – this time he was summoning threats from the past to attack the present, specifically the transport convoy that Mike was currently in charge of. He’d already sent a medieval knight and a roundhead to harass the good captain, and as ridiculous as it sounded, the Doctor made it out to be a big enough threat to the safety of Mike and the convoy to give Benton genuine cause for concern.

Working for UNIT, Benton and Mike were both used to being terrorised by the strange and the dangerous, but there was nothing Benton hated more than being hidden away all safe and snug inside while Mike was out in the open and under the threat of danger. It was like the axons in the land rover all over again.

“Well, what are we supposed to do now?” sighed Ruth, one of the scientists that had got caught up in the whole event. “Surely the Brigadier doesn’t seriously expect us just to hang around and wait.”

“Sorry, Miss,” Benton said with a small, apologetic smile. “Can’t disobey orders, I’m afraid.”

Ruth huffed in frustration, turning her attention to the device the Doctor had been tinkering with moments before he left. Her co-worker, Stu, folded his arms across his chest. “Do you really just spend your time following orders? Don’t you ever get bored?”

Too worried about Mike to engage with either of them to any great degree, Benton just shrugged. “I’m just doing my job.”

Leaving the pair of scientists to grumble and whinge on their own, Benton crossed the room to stand by the window, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of Mike and the convoy. He’d been charged with bringing the TARDIS to the Doctor, and Benton had a dark suspicion that the Doctor, Jo, and the Brig were more concerned about the safety of the time machine than the man who was bringing it to them. He didn’t want to think it was true, but his thoughts always turned a little darker in times of distress.

With no sign of the convoy, Benton pulled out his radio. “Come in, Greyhound Three, do you read me? Over.” The only reply he received was the harsh buzz of static. Benton bit his lip, murmuring under his breath. “Come on, Mike…”

Fortunately, the two scientists were too busy bickering to overhear Benton using Mike’s first name. They weren’t too busy, however, to take notice of the sudden buzzing sound that filled the air.

“What’s that?” asked Ruth, scrunching her face in confusion.

“It sounds like a motorbike,” Stuart replied.

Benton furrowed his brow, paying closer attention to the noise. “Yeah, but it’s coming from the sky.”

And then he saw it. A tiny, dark spec in the sky slowly making its way through the sky, heading dangerously close to the location of the convoy. Benton stuck his neck out a little further to try and get a closer look – he could just make out its shape, a long body with two wings sticking out the side. It had to be a plane of some kind, but Benton had a feeling it wasn’t just any old plane. Not in the context of this day, anyway.

“What do you think it is?” Benton glanced down to see Ruth hovering by his side, trying to get a decent look at the plane. “Do you think that’s something the Master’s summoned?”

“It’s bad news if it is,” Stuart said a little too nonchalantly for Benton’s liking.

Frowning, Benton lifted his radio to his lips once more. “Greyhound Three, come in, Greyhound Three, do you read me? Something’s flying overhead, over.”

Again, nothing but static, but it sounded all the more hopeless with the buzzing of the plane over the top of it. Ruth looked up at him with a hint of concern in her eyes. “Can’t you reach the convoy?”

“No, Miss, I can’t.”

“Keep trying, Sergeant. I’m sure you’ll get through to them eventually.”

Benton gave an uncertain nod. “Thank you.”

Quite suddenly, the buzzing cut out. A brief spark of hope flourished in Benton’s chest – the plane must have vanished like the knight and the roundheads. Mike was safe. But then he looked out the window again, and his heart sunk when he saw the plane falling swiftly from the sky to the ground, right above where the convoy was supposed to be. A hard lump forming in his throat, Benton turned on his radio once more, needing to warn Mike about what was coming for him.

And then the plane landed, and a huge plume of smoke and fire burst out from behind the treeline, thick and dark and destructive. Benton’s radio slipped from his hands, and the entire world slowed to a halt. Mike was the target of that explosion. His Mike.

This was it. There was no way Mike could’ve survived the attack. The explosion was too big – it had probably engulfed the entire convoy, taking Mike and his men with it. And even if the explosion itself hadn’t killed him, the fires it had caused certainly would. There was nothing to be done – Mike was gone.

Benton had finally started believing that Mike would be the first good thing in his life that would last. He’d thought that nothing could happen to separate them, that they were forever, that he’d found the man he’d spend the rest of his life with. Mike, with his Cheshire grin and his posh little idiosyncrasies – he was Benton’s world. He’d been the first man Benton had ever well and truly fallen in love with because everything about him made Benton’s whole world brighter. But now that light had been snuffed out, and Benton couldn’t see anymore.

_“You’re not going to lose me, John. I promise. I love you too much to let you go – and I know that sounds ridiculous, but it’s true, and I want you to know that.”_

He’d sounded so certain when he’d said it, that night when Benton had opened up to him about his fear of losing everything that made him happy. But he was wrong. Mike may not have let him go, but he’d instead been forcibly pulled away, ripped from Benton’s world so cruelly and callously. Such a young life – such a young, wonderful, vibrant life, and it was gone. Just like that, in a puff of smoke and fire.

Mike was gone, and Benton hadn’t even been there to say goodbye.

“Sergeant, are you alright?” Ruth’s voice sounded so distant, like she was miles away even though she was standing right beside him.

With a shaking hand, he picked up his radio and lifted it to his lips, doing his best to keep his voice steady when all he wanted to do was scream. “B-Brigadier, come in, please…” No response. Benton swallowed heavily and tried again. “Greyhound- Greyhound Three, come in! Mi- Captain Yates, can you hear me, sir?”

The crackling of the radio static was deafening.

***

Pain. The most unimaginable pain. It was all Mike could feel, and he mustered out a pained scream as the agony tore through his skull and flooded through the rest of his body. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see – the whole world was black, and the air was thick with smoke that coated the inside of his throat as he desperately tried to breathe. It was hot, too hot to stand, and when he tried to move, he cried out in pain as his arm brushed against a white-hot scrap of metal. He clutched his burned hand to his chest, warm tears flowing freely down his smoke-stained face. He felt sick, lightheaded, and there was a screeching ring in his ears that only made the pain in his head so much worse. The side of his head felt damp with blood, and the only thing he was fully conscious of was that there was something sharp and hot stabbing deep into his forehead.

The pain too much for his prone body, Mike slipped away into a fitful unconsciousness, scraps of sights and sounds only just making their way into his memory. Familiar voices got muddled in his brain, melding and distorting against the ringing in his ears. When the smoke had cleared, the brief flashes of sunlight he saw burned at his eyes, and it was impossible to stay awake for more than a second.

_“Mike? Are you alright?”_

_“You take it easy, Mike.”_

_“Don’t worry, Captain.”_

_“An ambulance is on its way.”_

But the one voice he needed to hear at that moment wasn’t there. In his brief moments of consciousness, all he wanted was John – his soothing voice to comfort him, his strong, warm arms wrapped around him, his familiar scent which relaxed him so much. He wanted John. He needed John. Why wasn’t he there?

Finally, deep sleep overcame him, and the pain ebbed away. He didn’t dream, lost in the darkness of sleep for so long he felt he may never wake up. But Mike liked it that way – better to be lost in the dark than awake and in pain. And he needed to sleep because he felt so tired. So very, very tired.

When Mike woke up, it was a slow process. For a while, he didn’t realise he was awake, his eyes too heavy to open. But it was a small, steady beeping that made him crack open his eyes and find himself in an unfamiliar place. The lights were dim and the ceiling was a dull grey, which was perfect for his still pounding head. His surroundings were soft and clean, a far cry from the ash and dirt of his last resting place, and it relaxed him to no end because it made him feel safe, like he was wrapped up in a warm cocoon of comfort. Something was covering his mouth and nose, and although he didn’t understand what it was, he didn’t care. He shut his eyes again, happy to be warm, happy to be safe.

Some moments later, however, he felt something warm close around his hand, and he soon recognised the feeling of skin against skin. A light brushing sensation skimmed across his knuckles, and then a kiss to the same spot.

“Please wake up, Mike… please… I need you…”

That was the voice. That was the voice he needed to hear, that he’d longed to hear back at the blast site. It was just as low and comforting as he thought it would be, and he managed the faintest, doziest smile before croaking out: “John…”

The feeling on his hand grew tighter. “Mike? Mike, can you hear me?”

“I can…” Speaking was agony to his damaged throat, but he needed John to know he could hear him. He’d sounded so desperate when he asked, so upset. Mike didn’t like it when John was upset.

“Oh, Mike… Hang on, love, I’m going to get the Doctor. It’s alright, I won’t be gone for long, don’t you worry.”

“John…” He didn’t want John to leave, but he could just make out his stocky figure leaving his bedside, and it upset him more than he expected. “No… Don’t go…”

But shortly after John left, he returned with two familiar figures. Although his vision was still blurry, he could very easily make out the Doctor’s shock of white hair, and he recognised Jo when she spoke. But all he cared about was John, and he trained his eyes on his lover to make sure he wouldn’t leave again.

“You left…”

“I know, but I’m back now, ok? I just had to get the Doctor, that’s all. I told you I wouldn’t be gone for long.”

“Mmm…”

“Don’t try to talk, Mike.” The Doctor’s voice was low, serious. “You inhaled a lot of smoke in that blast, and talking will only aggravate the damage it did to your throat. Now, nod if you could understand what I just said.”

Mike nodded, although it pained him to do so.

“Good. Now, let’s have a look…”

He didn’t care what the Doctor was doing, even when it hurt – he just didn’t want John to leave. He needed him there, by his side, and in his dazed state, he didn’t understand why John wasn’t holding his hand anymore. As the Doctor fiddled around with the bandage wrapped around his head and the thing strapped to his face – which he now realised was an oxygen mask – Mike only had eyes for John. Looking at him distracted him from the pain, and he needed that distraction so, so badly, because everything hurt.

Eventually, the Doctor pulled back. “There we are, all done. Get some rest, Mike. Goodness knows you deserve it – come on Jo, Benton, let’s give him some peace.”

He was going to take John away. “No…”

“Shh, Mike.” Jo leaned in, gently stroking his hair with her soft, small hand. “I think someone should stay here to keep an eye on him. Doctor, I know we’ve still got quite a bit to report to the Brigadier – Benton, why don’t you stay behind?”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Good. Come on, Doctor.”

Soon, it was just him and John again, alone in the infirmary. Mike slowly reached out to him, and John was quick to take his hand and squeeze it, a sad smile on his face. Although it was feeble, Mike gave one in kind. “Hi…”

“Hey… How are you feeling?” John winced. “Sorry, you’re not supposed to talk. So, don’t answer that.”

“It’s… fine…” His voice was no more than a raspy croak, barely audible underneath his mask. “I feel… It hurts…”

“I bet it does. You don’t have to stay awake for my sake – you need to rest, love.”

Mike gave the slightest shake of his head, although it was quite the struggle staying conscious. “I want… to talk to you…”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm…”

“About anything in particular?”

“No… I just… want to…”

John smiled, and Mike furrowed his brow when he saw the tears slipping down his lover’s cheeks. At Mike’s small whine of confusion, John quickly wiped them away. “Sorry, it’s just… You’re so sweet. And today’s been… Well, today’s been a lot.” He added quietly: “I thought I’d lost you, Mike. For good.”

“Oh… What happened…?” In all honesty, he had very little recollection of how he’d got into this state. It was all such a big, painful blur to him. But he gave John’s hand as much of a squeeze as he could manage, trying to comfort him.

“You don’t remember?”

“No… tell me…?”

John nodded, moving to sit on the bed so he could hold Mike closer. Mike snuggled up to him, using his chest as a pillow – this was just what he’d been longing for. “Well, the Master was summoning up all those things from the past to attack you. Do you remember that?”

“Don’t know…”

“Right. Well, he was, and the last one he summoned was some kind of bomb from the War, and it dropped on you. That’s how you got in this sorry state.”

“Oh… A bomb…”

“That’s right, love. According to the doctors, you didn’t duck and cover in time and that’s why you’re so badly hurt. You had a nasty knock to your head, and a bit of shrapnel got stuck in your forehead too. And you’ve got a few burns as well, but you don’t need me to tell you that, and the Doctor told you about the smoke and things.” Carefully, John took Mike’s hand and kissed it. “We were all worried you weren’t going to make it.”

Mike nuzzled his head against John’s chest, and although he was starting to feel drowsier and drowsier, he still wanted to stay awake to comfort his lover. “I made it… I’m alright…”

“You are alright, love. That’s right.” John pulled Mike a little closer and kissed the top of his head. “But with the way your health is, the Brig wants you to take some time off to rest up. We’ve got to get you well again, eh?”

“Mhm… I’ll get better… And you… can look after me…”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

Mike smiled under his mask, but the warmth of Benton’s embrace was starting to get to him. He felt so loose, so relaxed, and before long he was sound asleep again, wrapped up tight and safe in the arms of the man he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Taking liberties with 'The Time Monster' to make it more angsty than it actually is? It's more likely than you think


	10. Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was written for the UNIT HQ Discord Fic/Art challenge!
> 
> Prompt three: Favourite UNIT ship

_~1972~_

“John…”

“Hm?”

“Good morning…”

Benton looked down at Mike with a feeling of fondness in his heart, loving the sight of his mussed-up hair, dozy smile, and droopy eyelids. He’d been waking up to this for the past week – since Mike had suffered a severe concussion after getting blown up by the Master, he’d needed someone to stay with him to look after him. Naturally, Benton was the happy volunteer. It was the first time he and Mike had done anything close to living together permanently, as Benton hadn’t gone back to his own flat since the accident, and they were loving it. They both knew it wouldn’t last, however – Mike was getting better every day, and their cover of medical assistance wouldn’t cut it by the time he was back on his feet again. But they appreciated it while they had the chance, and that was the important thing.

“Morning,” Benton replied before leaning in to kiss his lover. “Sleep ok?”

“Like a log.” Mike sat up, rubbing his hand over his face. “I think I’ll be able to go back to work today. I’m feeling much better this morning – my head doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

Benton shook his head and pulled Mike back down to kiss him. “The Doctor said you’d need at least ten days off, love. It’s only been a week.”

“I know, but isn’t that just an arbitrary number? Everyone recovers differently, you know.”

“Mike.” Benton tried his best to sound stern, but he’d never been good at telling Mike off. He’d spent so long working under him – and still did – that trying to discipline him just felt wrong. “It’s just three more days. And think about it; the longer you take off work, the longer I’ll get to stay with you.”

“Very true. Hmm… I suppose it couldn’t hurt. But I’m getting restless.” Mike rested his head on Benton’s shoulder, and Benton kissed his hair out of instinct. It had grown a little longer during Mike’s recovery, and Benton rather liked the style. “I want to do something with my time. Something interesting.”

“You’ve got your books, don’t you?”

Mike shrugged. “I suppose. Sorry, I’m being such a downer.”

“Don’t worry, I get it.” Benton gave him a little hug. “I’d be coping a lot worse than you are, believe me.”

“Yeah,” Mike replied with a grin. “I doubt you would’ve lasted a day. ‘Rest’ isn’t part of your vocabulary, is it?”

When Benton shook his head, Mike laughed and pulled him in for another kiss. It wasn’t long before Benton found himself completely on top of Mike, kissing him deeply and tenderly, one hand by Mike’s waist and the other by his head. Mike’s slender hand rested against the back of his neck to hold him steady, and he felt so soft underneath him. Benton smiled as he pulled away, Mike’s expression matching his own.

“Ok?”

Mike nodded. “Thank you.”

“Do you think, um…” Benton blushed. He’d never found it easy to ask Mike to go further. The thought of upsetting him the way he had that first night, of dredging up those experiences that had traumatised Mike so much – that made him feel sick to his stomach. But that didn’t mean Benton’s desire wasn’t there, that he didn’t want to make love to him in the fullest way possible. He felt awkward even thinking about it.

“Do I think I’m ready?” Mike finished for him, his voice a little lower than before. Benton felt him grow tense underneath him, but not as much as that first night. More slight discomfort than pure terror. When Benton nodded in reply, Mike bit his lip. “I…” he swallowed. “Give me today to think about it?”

It wasn’t the answer Benton had suspected. In the rare moments that sex had come up, Mike’s answer had always been a firm ‘no’, followed by the hasty reassurance that his rejection had nothing to do with Benton himself. But this was different. This was the closest thing to a ‘yes’ Benton had never heard from him in this context, and to say it came as a surprise was an understatement.

“Are you sure?” Benton asked, his voice a little shaky.

Mike nodded. “Yes. I think… I think I’d like to make some progress. Replace the bad memories with good ones.” He brought his hand up to rest on Benton’s cheek, a small smile blooming on his face. “I just need to think about it.”

“Of course,” Benton replied with a firm nod. “Take all the time you need.”

They kissed again, and Mike’s smile was fuller when they came apart. “You’re wonderful, you know that?”

“Am I?”

“I bet you’re the only man in England who’d treat my situation with such understanding. I want you to know how grateful I am for that, and how much I appreciate it.”

“I love you, Mike. I wouldn’t treat you any other way.”

They lay in silence for a while after that. Benton rolled onto his back and opened his arms for Mike to slide in beside him, which he did – he always did. As Mike laid his head on Benton’s chest, Benton’s hand found its habitual spot in Mike’s hair, slowly stroking through the soft, dark strands. He was careful not to accidentally brush against the stitches in Mike’s forehead, helping to heal the gash he’d sustained from getting hit by shrapnel from the bomb.

Every time he woke up to see Mike curled up at his side, he was overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude that he was still alive. After the bombing, it was touch and go whether he would survive or not, and apparently, the UNIT medics had been working overtime to make sure he would. But they’d saved him, and now he was alive – and a little bit dozy at times – but the important thing was that he was still there.

Benton couldn’t imagine life without him. Although they’d only been dating for a year and a half, it was the only year and a half of Benton’s life where he’d truly felt whole. For his entire life, something had been missing – the hole was created when his brother and father passed, and the absence of love from his mother and abundance of hate from his step-father only sought to dig it deeper. But Mike filled that hole, made him feel complete again. Because Mike loved him, cared for him, and enjoyed the simple pleasure of his quiet company.

He’d never been loved in that way before. And now that he knew what it was like, he couldn’t go back.

“I suppose you’d better get ready for work,” Mike murmured, snapping Benton from his reverie.

Benton nodded and kissed the top of Mike’s head. “I suppose so. Wish I could stay here with you, though.”

“You could always use up a sick day. I’m sure the Brig wouldn’t mind, and things have been fairly quiet since the Master got sorted out.” Mike cuddled in a little closer. “I’m sure you won’t be missed for one day, hm?”

Benton chuckled. “Cheeky. Better not, though. You never know when the Martians are going to turn up and mess us about.”

As Benton started to get up, Mike rolled over to lay on his side, looking up at Benton with adoring eyes. “You’ll save the day, then?”

“I would if the Doctor didn’t always beat me to it first.” The two shared a laugh at that, the thought of their pompous Timelord friend always lightening the mood.

“Well, it’s about time he let you have a turn.”

“Maybe,” Benton said with a chuckle, then started gathering up his clothes to go for a quick shower. Before he went into the bathroom, he gave Mike one last look, the very sight of him brightening the world around him. “Love you, Mike.”

“I love you too, John.”

***

“Mike? Are you awake?”

Blinking slowly into consciousness, Mike gave a low hum at the sight of John standing over him, a soft smile on his face. “I am now… Did I fall asleep?”

“You must have done,” John replied. “Comfortable?”

“Mhm…” Mike glanced around, getting a better sense of where he was as he woke.

He was curled up on the sofa, using the armrest as a pillow and John’s robe as a blanket, and the television was still on at a low volume. It started to come back to him – he’d been waiting for John to come home so they could have dinner together, but he must have fallen asleep before he arrived. Glancing down at the robe draped across him, he blushed a deep red and held it up to John.

“You can have this back,” he said, his voice low with embarrassment.

John just grinned. “You can keep it. You look cute, all wrapped up like that.”

“I am not cute.”

“You definitely are.”

Rolling his eyes, Mike shifted to sit up a bit more, raising his hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn. As he did so, he caught sight of the clock on the wall – ten o’clock. He looked up at John with a frown. “Why are you home so late?”

“Um… Do you want the long version or the short version?”

“Did something happen today?”

“Yeah.” John rubbed the back of his neck – he always did that when he felt a bit unsure of himself. And, now that Mike was paying attention, he realised just how tired John looked – it must have been one hell of a day. A little pang of guilt started creeping up on him, what with him napping all evening while John had to go through something harrowing at work.

He reached out to squeeze John’s arm. “Shall I make us some dinner? Then you can tell me all about it-”

“The Doctor’s left. In his police box – which is bigger on the inside, by the way. And there were two of him, but one of them was the way he used to look back when the Cybermen invaded, and he saved the day with his recorder-”

“Hang on, hang on,” Mike interrupted, a little taken aback by John’s sudden outburst. “Slow down – I’ve got no idea what you’re on about.”

“Sorry. It was all just so strange, that’s all.” He collapsed onto the sofa with a sigh, and Mike was quick to wrap his arm around his shoulders. “What went on today… It almost doesn’t feel real. And I know it’s like that with a lot of the stuff we do at UNIT, but this one just felt more bizarre than anything else we’ve ever done.”

Mike nodded. He knew exactly what John meant – sometimes it was hard to believe that they’d seen the stuff they had over the years. Autons, Silurians, the very Devil himself – it all sounded like science fiction, and yet they had to put up with it every day. So, he completely understood how John felt about whatever had happened today, even if the actual event still didn’t make much sense to him.

“I know, darling,” he replied, giving John a light kiss on the cheek. “Why don’t you start with the most important thing first? You said the Doctor left?”

John nodded. “Right. Well, it’s sort of difficult to explain…”

And the more Mike heard about John’s day, the more he agreed with the difficulty of explaining it. According to John, he, the Doctor, the Brigadier, and Jo had been sent to a whole other universe to do battle against some Timelord bloke who wanted to destroy them all. Not only that, but there were three versions of the Doctor – one being the Doctor they knew, one being one John had met during the invasion of the Cybermen back in ’69, and the other being a much older man who was stuck in some weird time thingy. Then John had to explain that the Doctor could change his face, which Mike had been none the wiser to despite having known the man for a good couple of years now. Then, because they’d put an end to the plot of the other Timelord, the Doctor – their Doctor, not one of the other two – was finally given the ability to leave Earth in the TARDIS. And so he had, and he’d taken Jo with him.

Once John had finished his tale, Mike blew out a small sigh. “Goodness. Of all the days I had to miss, it happened to be the most exciting one you’ve ever had.”

“Yeah – a bit of a shame, that,” John said with a tired laugh. “Still, I’d rather you be here and safe than out there with us.”

“I’m not made of glass, John. I think I would’ve been fine.”

“I know.” John leaned in to rest his head on Mike’s shoulder. “I think you getting so badly hurt on your last job has thrown me for a bit of a loop, that’s all.”

“Oh, John…” Mike kissed the top of his head. “That was one time.”

“But it could still happen again, something like that. You could-”

Sensing that John was getting himself wound up, Mike twisted around to face him and rested his hands on his cheeks, looking into his eyes. “Stop worrying. Now, you’ve had a long day, you must be very tired, and I’d wager you haven’t had much to eat today. Right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’d also wager that that’s why you’re getting so wound up about everything?”

“I suppose.”

Gently, Mike kissed him. “Then let’s have some dinner. You just relax – I’ll sort it out.”

John smiled, taking Mike’s hand in his for a moment. He pressed a kiss to his knuckles before letting it go. “You’re lovely, you know that?”

“Well, I do try.” Mike flashed him a grin, and John laughed in response. As he made his way through to the kitchen, Mike paused in the doorway, biting his lip. John’s story had distracted him from what had been running through his head all day – the question of whether or not he was ready to sleep with him. Ever since John had brought it up that morning, it was all he could think about, and he could come up with a myriad of reasons to both accept and reject John’s offer.

The reasons to reject were obvious – having sex only brought him back to his bad memories of Eton, of the boys who forced him into an act that was supposed to be so loving, so tender. It would end up just like the last time they tried, with Mike a ridiculous, panicking mess and poor John completely out of his depth. The consequences were disastrous. But the more he thought about it, the more he could see the good in taking that next step. He’d said it to John earlier that day – he wanted to replace his bad memories with good ones, and there was only one way to do that. And he felt bad about starving John of something he’d been expecting from their relationship, something that every couple was doing except for them. Of course, he was grateful to John for being so good about it, but deep down he knew that he’d get fed up eventually. And Mike would rather face his fear than lose John because of it.

“Um, John?” he said, too nervous to face him.

“Hm?”

“I… I think I’m ready.” 


	11. Happiness

_~1973~_

When days at UNIT were slow, Benton and Mike would take the opportunity to have lunch together in Mike’s office, indulging in the privacy and the pleasure of each other’s company. Today was one of those days – the Brigadier, the Doctor, and Jo had all gone up to some town in Wales, leaving everyone at UNIT with very little to do. In some ways, Benton was glad he and Mike hadn’t been asked to go to Wales that day because he rather fancied some alone time with Mike. Not that he was starved of it, but the more of it he got the happier he was.

A tray of sandwiches and hot, steaming cocoa in his hands, Benton walked the familiar path to Mike’s office, whistling an aimless tune as he went. None of the people he passed thought to question why he had lunch with the Captain so often – ignorance led them to assume they were taking the chance to discuss work, and Benton was happy to leave it at that. So, he gave courteous nods and quick smiles to those he passed, really rather pleased with the way things were

Life was good. He was safe and comfortable in his relationship with Mike, the Brigadier was growing more and more impressed with his work every day, and ever since the Doctor started gadding about in his TARDIS the number of alien invasions they had to thwart had shrunk significantly. He was so content that he started to get over his fears that this happiness wouldn’t last, that something would come and pull it out from under him at any given moment. If something was going to take his happiness away from him, it would have done so by now.

Arriving at the door to Mike’s office, he gave it a short, sharp knock with his boot, his hands too full with the tray to knock with his knuckles. After a short delay, he heard Mike’s voice: “Come in!”

Backing into the door, Benton slipped inside. He opened his mouth to speak before he realised Mike was on the phone, looking more than a little serious. He set the tray down on Mike’s desk and took his habitual seat on the other side, and when Mike offered him a quick smile, he gave one in kind.

Mike held up one finger as he listened to the voice on the other side of the phone. “I can be there in about three hours, sir, give or take… I understand, sir… Yes, I’ll be there as soon as I can, sir… Alright, goodbye.”

With that, Mike hung up the phone. He glanced down at the tray Benton had brought, then back up at Benton with an apologetic look in his eye. Benton didn’t need to think very hard to figure out what was going to happen next. “The Brig’s called you away?”

“Yes,” Mike said, his voice low with regret. “I’m sorry, John, but I have to go right away.”

“I understand,” Benton replied – and he did, he really did. He could hardly blame Mike for the unpredictability that came with UNIT life, and he wasn’t about to stop him from doing his job because he wanted to have lunch with him. “Where’s he sending you now?”

Mike sucked on his bottom lip. “I can’t say. It’s top secret.”

“You can’t even tell me?” Benton asked, his curiosity blurring his common sense. “I’d keep it to myself.”

“I’m afraid not,” said Mike with a small smile. “Don’t worry. I’m sure once this is over, I’ll be able to tell you all about it – and who knows, the Brig might want to get you involved as well since you’re his right-hand man and all.”

Benton scoffed. “I’m hardly his right-hand man. I’m only a sergeant.”

“Only a sergeant,” Mike repeated as he rose from his desk, his tone mocking. “Don’t be silly – the Brigadier trusts you more than he trusts any of us, myself included.” He added with a wider grin: “Of course, I’m a close second, you know.”

“I bet you are,” Benton said, matching Mike’s smile with one of his own. “Anyway, I’d better not keep you. You said you had to go right away?”

Mike nodded. “Yes. But I do need to go home and pick up some clothes before I leave – fancy coming with me?”

“I can’t leave now, love. Not in the middle of a workday.”

“Come on.” Mike traipsed over and grabbed hold of Benton’s wrists, hoisting him up from the chair and into his arms. “It’ll only take twenty minutes – I’m in a rush, remember?”

Benton rolled his eyes but kissed Mike all the same. “Cheeky. Come on, then.”

***

The sound of celebration drifted from the Nut Hutch into the cold night air, joyful songs carried on the light breeze that ruffled the world it blew through. The light from the windows glowed in the dark, the only light for miles as the hour grew later and later. Mike sat alone in that darkness, the steps leading up to the front door cold underneath him, his knees drawn up to his chest as he did all he could to calm his raging mind.

He should’ve been happy. Jo was getting married to someone who loved her, who cared for her – and he was pleased for her, of course he was. But the joy of Jo’s engagement was dwarfed by the feeling of dread that had been steadily creeping up on him all day and was only now just crashing over him like a tidal wave.

He’d lost control again. Of his body, his mind – everything. After years of maintaining agency over his thoughts, after years of not letting anyone dictate his actions, it had all fallen apart. He’d been mind-controlled, manipulated into trying to kill his friends, nearly shooting the Doctor and the Brigadier point-blank against his own will. The Doctor had congratulated him for fighting BOSS’s mind control so that he never pulled the trigger. But Mike knew he didn’t deserve a word of those congratulations. If he’d deserved them, he never would’ve let BOSS take over in the first place.

But it was just so typical, wasn’t it? At that moment, headphones over his head, BOSS singing of world domination in his ears – he was sixteen years old again. He wasn’t human, he wasn’t a person. Just a vessel for someone else’s desires, an empty husk with no purpose in life but to fulfil the wants of others. Just as his fellow students had used him against his will to fulfil their erotic needs, BOSS had used him to destroy the world.

Mike had spent so long convincing himself that his life mattered, that he was more than just an object to be used by others however they liked – and he’d even started to believe it. But he’d been lying to himself all along. Because if BOSS could make an object of him just as those Eton boys had done so many years ago, then absolutely nothing had changed.

The door swinging open behind him snapped him out of his thoughts but did little to ease the sick melancholy of his mind. Not even the warm, familiar voice of his partner, slightly slurred from the plentiful alcohol provided by Professor Jones, could draw him from his misery.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.” John shut the front door behind him and took a seat on the step beside Mike. He handed Mike a bottle of what he assumed was beer, but he felt too sick to drink it and find out. He put it on the step beside him. “Needed some air?”

“Something like that,” Mike replied, but not even his voice sounded like his own anymore. “Are things winding down yet?”

John shook his head, the glint of his smile visible even in darkness. “Nowhere near it – Professor Jones is telling us all about all these weird hippie festivals he’s been to, and Jo’s trying to best him with even weirder alien stories. Although the Brig’s sleeping on the sofa and the Doctor scarpered ages ago. I was starting to think you’d gone with him.”

“No. Still here,” Mike replied.

He couldn’t look John in the eye, couldn’t look at him at all. He didn’t want to tell John about what BOSS did to him, about how he was feeling, because doing that would just ruin everything even more. He didn’t want to see John all doe-eyed and sympathetic, dragged down by the weight of Mike’s misery. He’d been so happy lately, so content – the last thing Mike wanted was to ruin that for him.

An old, familiar tightness gripped Mike’s chest.

“You know, I don’t think anyone would miss us if we left,” John started, the smile in his voice so dissonant against how Mike was feeling that he just wanted to scream. “Fancy renting a room down at the pub? You might have to drive though – I’m a bit off it.”

But Mike was too distracted to respond, BOSS’s claws still clamped tight around his mind, and the deft hand of a student holding him down and keeping him still. He’d lost ownership of his body years ago, but at least he’d still had his mind. But now he’d lost that too, and he felt all wrong inside, like he was a stranger in his own consciousness. He felt lost, cast adrift, and so, so worthless.

To get his attention, John glanced around before leaning in to kiss Mike’s cheek. But the moment he felt John’s soft touch, he flinched away. In this frame of mind even the slightest touch brought on memories of misty nights behind bike sheds, cold hands clamped around his mouth to keep him quiet, violent bursts of pain with every thrust… He felt sick.

“Mike?” John asked, confusion and concern sharpening his slurred speech. “Are you ok?”

“I- I’m sorry,” he stammered out. He couldn’t give him any other answer – he couldn’t bear lying to John by faking contentment, but he didn’t want to jeopardise John’s happiness either. “It’s nothing. I’m alright.” He managed a smile, but it was weak. Just like everything else about him.

John frowned. “The Brig told me about what happened, about how you got brainwashed by that computer. Is it something to do with that?”

“No,” Mike replied, but he was too quick to be believable.

Gently, John tried to take Mike’s hand, but he flinched away again. He frowned, and Mike couldn’t bear the pain and confusion in his lover’s eyes. He just wished he could hide it all away from him, pretend to be happy for his sake. But he couldn’t. He was in too much pain to hide it, and John could tell. “I think I’ve known you long enough to tell when you aren’t fine.”

“I’m fine.”

“Mike…” John leaned around to look into Mike’s eyes, getting the message and keeping his hands to himself. “It’s ok to be upset about what happened today, I understand. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

He hated himself, and yet John still loved him. He hated how he’d let BOSS invade his mind and steal his agency, and yet John still loved him enough not to judge him for it. He hated how he’d almost killed the Doctor and the Brigadier, and yet John still loved him enough to forgive him. Every time Mike spiralled out of control, there was John to pull him back down again, to calm him, to love him. At that moment, when traumas past and present were tearing down Mike’s very being, John was there for him. Like he always was.

What in the world had he done to deserve a man like him?

Taking a deep breath, Mike looked over at John, concern shining in his gentle, pale eyes. When he tried to speak, nothing came out but a small, pathetic sob. He hung his head, squeezing his eyes shut and letting the tears fall.

“Oh, love…” John murmured, reaching out to him before hesitating. “Can I touch you?”

Mike looked at John’s hands, big and warm and strong, and his desire to be held overtook all his other feelings. Because John’s love meant so much more to him than the hatred of the past.

His voice broke. “Please…”

Almost immediately, John opened up his arms and pulled Mike in, holding him close and tight because he knew the pressure comforted Mike like nothing else. He whispered quiet comforts in his ear, reassuring him that everything would be alright and believing it wholeheartedly. Mike wanted to stay there forever – nothing could hurt him when he had John to keep him safe.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice muffled against John’s chest.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” John reassured him, gently rubbing Mike’s back. “No need to apologise.”

“But you’ve been so happy, and I’m ruining it.”

John pressed a kiss to his temple. “You’re not ruining anything, don’t be silly. And I’m glad you’ve told me your unhappy and not bottling it all up. Because that’d be worse, right?”

Mike nodded, and he looked up at John with tired eyes. “You’re too good to me.”

Smiling, John gave Mike a little squeeze, and Mike rested his head against his chest. “Nothing’s too good for you.”

With John’s arms warm and tight around him, Mike felt a little bit more like himself again – not much, just a little bit. But, as he’d soon learn, this was just a reprieve.


	12. Fragility

_~1973~_

It had just gone midnight when Benton woke up, drawn from sleep by the low, choked cries coming from the man beside him. The daze of sleep prevented him from realising Mike was having a nightmare sooner, and it was only when he let out an anguished scream that he snapped to attention. After turning on the bedside lamp, Benton leaned over, gently shaking Mike’s shoulder to pull him away from whatever had a hold over him.

“Mike? Mike, it’s ok, it’s just a dream! Wake up!”

Mike’s eyes snapped open, and he cried out with the shock of being woken. He lurched away from Benton’s hand, which was still resting on his shoulder. “Get off me!”

“Love, please, it’s only-”

“Get off! Let me go, please!” Mike fisted his hands in his hair, squeezing his eyes shut and curling up as far away from Benton as he could manage. His breaths came in harsh stutters and starts, his chest and back heaving with the effort of crying while hyperventilating.

Benton had no idea what to do. He’d never seen Mike so scared before, and he’d never pushed Benton away in the previous times he’d been upset. All he wanted to do was pull him close and tell him everything was alright, despite not having a clue what had happened in this nightmare to distress him so much. But even though he knew how to calm people down when they were panicking, dealing with Mike was different – physical comfort was his first instinct with him, and when that wasn’t an option the fear of the moment threw all his training out the window. He cared about him too much to be rational.

“Mike, please,” he said, trying to cut through his lover’s panic. “What’s happened? What’s the matter?”

“Stop it… stop it…” Mike whispered under his breath, still gripping and tugging at his hair. It was like Benton wasn’t even there, like the nightmare hadn’t ended. “Get out of my head… Let me go…”

And then it clicked. BOSS. Llanfairfach. Global Chemicals. Benton remembered so clearly how upset Mike was after it had all finished, how shaken he was by BOSS brainwashing him to hurt his friends. But he thought he’d got over that – he certainly hadn’t shown any signs of it bothering him since that one night, but if it was giving him nightmares like this…

With more of a clue as to what was going on, Benton sprung into action. Even though he knew Mike didn’t want to be touched, he had a feeling that the warmth of human touch was exactly what he needed. Carefully, Benton reached around and took hold of Mike’s wrists – but that only made him scream.

“No! No! Let me go, I don’t want this!”

“Shhh, Mike, I’m not going to hurt you.” As gently as he could, Benton pulled Mike up so he could look Benton in the eye. He was writhing and thrashing, desperately trying to jerk himself away from Benton’s grip, but he was holding on tight. “Look at me, love. Mike? Just look at me. You’re alright, you’re safe.”

“Get off!”

“Mike.” His voice steady and his grip firm, Benton looked into Mike’s eyes. Part of their UNIT training involved grounding exercises like this, used to help calm soldiers down when the heat of battle got too much for them. But Benton figured they’d work just as well here. “Look at me. Just focus on me. You’re not in Llanfairfach anymore, you’re here in your flat with me. Ok? Can you hear me?”

“Please…” Mike’s breathing grew slower, steadier, but frenzied panic was still flashing in his watery eyes. “Don’t hurt me… Please- Please leave me alone…”

“I’m not going to hurt you, love, and I’m not going to make you do anything.” Benton gently started rubbing his thumb over Mike’s knuckles, trying to ignore how much they were shaking. “It’s only me, it’s only John. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

Mike swallowed, and his next breath came out in a shudder. “J-John…”

“That’s right, love. John. Not BOSS, not Mr. Stevens. Just John.”

For a moment, Mike just stared at him, and it looked like a million things were racing through his alert, unstable mind. But then he finally broke down, his body going limp and the tears flowing freely, and Benton was quick to gather him up into his arms. He rubbed his hand up and down Mike’s back as he sobbed into his chest, taking a few deep breaths himself now that the situation had been diffused. At least, he hoped it had been, but at least Mike was letting him touch him again. 

“They- they won’t let me go…” Mike stammered out, his voice muffled against Benton’s chest. “I- I want them to stop…”

“They have stopped, love,” Benton murmured in reply. Of course, he didn’t know if they had let him go, whoever they were. He’d thought BOSS was the source of Mike’s night terror, but Mike was talking as though it was more than just BOSS, like there was something else that had frightened him. But at that moment, he’d say anything to get Mike to stop crying. “You’re safe, alright? Nothing’s going to hurt you. It was only a dream.”

“John…”

“I’m here, love, I’m here.”

It felt like an age before Mike pulled away from Benton’s embrace, and he was still shaking quite badly when he did. He rubbed his eyes with a quivering hand, his face pale with the exertion, and he took a deep breath before speaking.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Benton reached out to rub Mike’s arm. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. You can’t help having a bad dream.”

Mike nodded, but he looked so far away. “A dream…”

“That’s right. It wasn’t real,” Benton said. He bit his bottom lip for a moment, hoping his next question wouldn’t make things worse. “Can you tell me what happened? In the dream, I mean.”

“I…” Mike hesitated, his brow furrowing as he thought. He looked so small, so fragile, so lost. "I- I think you’ve figured it- it out already.”

“BOSS?”

Mike nodded. “And, um… And Eton. All at once, and I- and I couldn’t do anything-”

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” Benton reached out to take Mike’s hands as he brought them back to his head, the speed of his breathing picking up again. “You don’t have to talk about it, it’s ok.”

“I couldn’t do anything, John…” Mike murmured, his voice quiet as it cracked. “They wouldn’t let me go… I- I couldn’t move, I couldn’t think, and- and… I… They made me do such awful things…”

He hung his head as if he was ashamed, unable to look Benton in the eye. Benton gave his hand a small squeeze. “But it was only a dream. You’re free from them now, and you didn’t actually do anything terrible, right?”

But Mike didn’t reply to that. He simply sat there, eerily quiet, still avoiding John’s gaze and his hands shaking. Benton frowned, not entirely convinced that Mike believed it had only been a dream. But it was all so heavy, so complicated – Benton was good at the simple things, and sometimes he found Mike’s complex feelings a little difficult to deal with. So, as he always did, he resorted to the simple.

“Listen, why don’t I make you some cocoa and we can see what’s on telly?” Benton suggested, smiling in the hopes that Mike would mirror the expression. “It’ll help take your mind off it.”

Mike looked up at Benton, pale and drawn and exhausted. But he nodded. “That sounds nice.”

“Good. Come on, then.” Benton extended his hand for Mike to take, and Mike readily slipped his hand into the grip. Still smiling, Benton gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I love you, Mike.”

Mike managed a smile in return, but there was still so much torment in his expression that Benton wasn’t sure if he believed the expression was genuine. “Love you too, John.”

***

The nightmares didn’t stop after that. They kept on coming, growing worse and worse every night, and they were starting to drive Mike mad.

Every night, without fail, he dreamt he was back in that room at Global Chemicals. Stevens loomed over him, and the headphones they used to force BOSS’s influence onto people’s minds were clamped tight around his head. No matter how hard he struggled he couldn’t get out of that chair, couldn’t pull off the headphones, couldn’t escape. He had no choice but to listen to BOSS’s rich, deep voice, every word stabbing into his mind like a white-hot dagger and causing agonising, unbearable pain. His grip on his mind grew looser and looser, and he soon lost complete control over himself, finding himself trapped in a body that wasn’t his own, operated by a mind that had been corrupted beyond recognition.

And then the other man arrived, slipping out from the shadows, a predatory smile glinting on a face distorted and faded by time. Slowly, he made his way towards the chair, undoing his belt and licking his lips, like Mike was some feast to be devoured. Mike had no choice but to sit back and let that man force himself upon him, BOSS holding his mind in a deadlock so he couldn’t even distract himself from the pain with his thoughts. He couldn’t do anything – he was helpless, prone like a ragdoll as every facet of his being was used for purposes outside of his control. The only thing he could feel was the agony in his mind, the violation of his body, and the tears down his cheeks.

 _“You’re mine, Michael. You’ve always been mine.”_

Then he’d wake up, convinced that everything around him was out to use him, and not even the warm, low voice of John could comfort him anymore.

As the nightmares continued, they started to encroach on his daily life. Whether it was John discreetly holding his hands under the mess hall table, or a private brushing past him in the hallway, every single touch felt like a violation. He found it harder and harder to separate those innocent, normal touches from the harsh grip of the man from his nightmare, moving lower and lower until an overwhelming feeling of disgust rose like bile in his throat and sent him to the bathroom to force it out of his system. And when the Brigadier or some other high-ranking officer gave him orders, he could hear BOSS’s voice crackling underneath theirs, rich and smooth and oh so very frightening.

He was so caught up in his fear that he didn’t realise how he was presenting himself to the outside world. He didn’t notice the dark circles under his eyes, that his hands were almost constantly shaking, that he was going through almost an entire packet of cigarettes a day. He vaguely recognised when John expressed his concern, whether that be by bringing him a cup of cocoa in the middle of the day or by tucking little notes with cheery messages in with his paperwork. Perhaps he didn’t notice John’s kindness because he was spending less time with him – the physicality they shared, which had once been such a comfort to him, now only reminded him of his night terrors, and every squeezed hand or kiss on the cheek made him want to scream out in terror.

Because, for every second of every day, Mike Yates was terrified. Terrified of losing himself altogether. Terrified of going insane. Terrified that he was only a pawn in other people’s games, destined to waste away and never live a day for himself. Ever since that first Eton violation, those fears had followed Mike around wherever he went, but he was able to keep them at bay – he’d only lost control of himself once, after all. But BOSS was the tipping point, causing Mike to seriously question what the point in his existence even was.

He was contemplating those very thoughts when a sharp knock on his office door drew him out of them, and he shook his head to clear it before answering.

“Come in,” he said, taking a deep breath and hoping whoever was on the other side of the door wouldn’t bother him for too long. He just wanted to be alone.

To his surprise, the tall, stately form of the Brigadier stepped into his office, which struck him as odd. Usually, if the Brig wanted to speak with him, he’d send someone to fetch him rather than make the trip to his office himself. Somehow, this felt rather significant.

“Good morning, Captain. May I come in?” he asked, as if there were any other answer Mike could give but ‘yes’.

Mike nodded, gesturing to the chair on the other side of his desk. “Of course, sir. What can I do for you?”

Before he sat down, the Brig shut the door to give them some privacy. Once he was seated, his expression changed completely – before, he was the very picture of emotionless professionalism, but now that mask fell away to reveal a slightly furrowed brow and a shine of concern in his eyes. Mike swallowed – he’d never known the Brig to be a sentimental man.

“I thought we might have a little chat,” he said, the usual undercurrent of warmth in his voice now brought to the forefront. “I hope I’m not disturbing you?”

“Not at all, sir.” He was disturbing him, really – disturbing him from dwelling on his fears and mulling on his existence. But he couldn’t refuse the Brig, it wouldn’t be right. Yet another thing he was powerless to do anything about. “Is everything alright?”

The Brig shifted in his chair. “Actually, I came in here to ask you that very question.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” The Brig took a moment to think. “There’s been some concern about you, Captain Yates. About the state of your health.”

“My health?” Mike repeated, so lost in his dark world that he hadn’t considered anyone else might have noticed. “I feel fine, sir.”

The Brig narrowed his eyes. “That’s not what I’ve been told, or indeed what I’ve seen. Several of your men have come to me with concerns that you haven’t been yourself lately, and I’ll be frank, Captain, I rather think I agree with them.”

“You- you do?”

“I do. You’ve been… Quiet. Distant. And the results from your psychological examination last week are appalling.”

Mike blinked, barely remembering that those exams had even happened. But everything had gone by in such a blur since Llanfairfach – somehow, he wasn’t surprised that he’d forgotten something so significant as his routine examinations. “Oh.”

“According to your psychological exam, you’re displaying all the signs of war neurosis and depression. I hate to be blunt with you like this, Captain, but I find that rather concerning, both as your commanding officer and as your friend.”

In all honesty, it all came as quite a shock. Of course, deep down, he knew he was suffering from both of those conditions, but to hear it said out loud was something completely different. Especially coming from the Brig, who he expected not to care about these things. When Mike proved too startled to speak, the Brig deepened his frown.

“Captain.”

“I…” Mike took a moment to compose himself. He then looked up at the Brig with a weak, tepid smile, a ghost of his usual Cheshire Cat grin. “I suppose I haven’t been feeling my best, sir.”

“Clearly. Have you got any idea what’s brought this on?”

Now came the hard part. He wasn’t ready to talk to anyone about what was really going on – even John only knew half the story. But here was the Brig, his commanding officer, genuinely concerned about him and asking him for answers. Demanding answers. Which he had no choice but to give. Because that was all Mike could do – give.

At the very least, he could give the Brig the same watered-down version he’d given to John.

“I think so, sir,” Mike said, speaking slowly to delay the inevitable. The Brig looked at him expectantly, wanting more than Mike was giving. “I… I think it’s what happened at Llanfairfach. With that computer.”

“I thought the Doctor broke your hypnosis?” the Brig asked, but there was a subtle shift in his body language, going from concerned to defensive in one barely noticeable movement. Just like he had when Mike had pulled a gun on him.

“He did.” Mike was quick to reassure him. “It’s just… I think it’s done me in a bit, that’s all.”

“I see.” The Brig mulled over Mike’s explanation, hopefully satisfied enough with it to not pry any further. “Are you sure that’s all it is? Your reaction seems a little drastic for just one computer messing you about.”

“Positive.” He’d never lied to a commanding officer before.

The Brig nodded, still in thought. “Right… Well, regardless of what’s caused this breakdown, it’s clear to me – and I hope it’s clear to you too, Captain – that continuing your service with UNIT is out of the question-”

“What?” Mike interrupted, his heart dropping to his stomach. He couldn’t leave UNIT. It was all he had left.

“If you’d let me finish,” the Brig said, looking more patient than he ought to. “I only mean temporarily. Take a month or two off, get yourself sorted out. Then come back to us when you’re feeling more yourself.”

Relief flooded through him – losing his position at UNIT was the last thing he needed. But once that flood had washed away, he took into account the Brig’s actual suggestion. “You mean take medical leave, sir?”

“Precisely. It’s clear that you need it, and it would give me peace of mind to know that you’ll be getting help and not suffering in silence.” His face lit up with a warm, fatherly smile. “You’re one of my best men, Captain. I’d hate to lose you like this.”

Mike nodded, appreciating the sentiment. “Right… I’ll consider it.”

“I’d like you to do a bit more than just consider it. I’ve already put in a request for three months of medical leave on your behalf.”

“Oh, I- I see,” Mike replied, everything happening just a little too fast for him. “I suppose I’ve got no choice then, sir.”

“Indeed.” The Brig’s expression softened. “I hope you’ll make the most of this time, Captain. We’re all rather worried about you.”

A small blush stole across Mike’s cheeks – he’d had no idea. “Thank you, sir.”

“Sergeant Benton’s the one you ought to thank, I think,” the Brig said as he rose from the chair, catching Mike’s attention. When he looked at the Brig expectantly, he provided clarification. “He’s the one that put this idea into my head, after all. But I agree with him. A good, long rest is just what you need.”

Mike nodded and after he gave his thanks, the Brig left his office. He took a moment to mull over the conversation – he’d never considered taking medical leave because he didn’t think he’d need it. But somehow knowing that the Brig, a man he looked up to, was concerned enough to justify it made him feel a little better about it. And that fact that John had been the one to bring it up to him made him feel just that little bit lighter because it meant John cared enough to see through his attempts to downplay his misery.

He rather liked the sound of medical leave. It would leave him space to process, to come to terms with what had happened to him. And there wouldn’t be anyone there to distract him, to touch him, to inadvertently send him right back to the epicentre of his trauma. In some ways, he didn’t even want John to go with him – he loved him, of course, but he needed this time for himself. He needed to be alone.

Yes. Isolation was exactly what he needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Come say hi on tumblr @fancyadancebrigadier


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